Worshiping at the Modern Altar
by TresMaxwell
Summary: "Big man in a suit of armor, take that away and what are you?" He has a quick answer ready, but it's not the truth. Alone in the dark, he's just lost. Starts off smut, gets to the plot later. Steve/Tony. This is movie-verse, I've never read the comics.
1. Unlikely Beginnings

The dream was always the same. He was dark and cold and voices screamed at him in a dozen languages. Each sentence was punctuated by a word he knew: Jericho. They demanded it from him. If they could rip it out of him, they would, leaving his viscera spread across the cave like homage the modern art he collected. He'd seen what they would do with it. Though it meant his unmaking, he kept screaming, "No, no Jericho."

Pain lanced through the darkness with the voices. He couldn't breathe. Water flooded his senses, pouring down his throat as he opened his mouth to yell. Blood cascaded from his chest, too much to stop, too much to survive.

A new voice joined the others, this one calm and cool, speaking in English, "We call them the walking dead."

He tried to put pressure on the yawning void of his chest. His hands slipped in the dark gore. His head felt like it was floating. There wasn't anything he could do. Even if he stopped the bleeding, the shards of metal would cut their way to his heart. He could feel them working through his chest as if they were alive, wriggling through the soft tissue like worms through dirt. He opened his mouth to scream for help, but there was blood filling his throat. He choked and fell, the voices still shrieking for the Jericho missile.

Tony jerked awake, his hand going to his chest. There was no blood. His fingers grazed lightly over the puckered scar tissue on his left pectoral, pausing at the raised lip of his arc reactor. The device was warm, as it always was. Tony absently drummed the metal and glass dome that covered the reactor, trying to chase the wisps of dream out of his mind with thoughts of a new type of combustion engine.

His breathing slowly evened out while he was doing the math for potential feedback on the cylinders. Inhale, square the output to find the reaction speed, exhale. He was optimizing the fuel injectors when the bedroom door clicked open and the light from the hall spilled across the foot of his bed. It wasn't difficult to determine whom the silhouette in the doorway belonged to. Using height and stance, Tony had it narrowed down to the Captain long before the other man spoke.

"I heard shouts."

If he were capable of blushing, Tony would have, but he'd thankfully stopped that childish habit before he got out of high school. Instead, he pulled a smile on over his embarrassment and rolled out of bed, "Sorry, Cap. Did I ruin your beauty sleep? I'll try to be a little quieter next time I go after my gun." Tony followed his words with a quick gesture that should've made a prude like Rogers run for the hills.

The Captain was usually an open book. He hid very little and shared what he was thinking with only slight prodding, but being lit from behind made Steven's expression impossible to read. Tony had been working with Steve for almost a year. In eleven months, they'd had a dozen missions, each one giving Tony more insight to the Captain's simplistic, but oddly effective mind. If anything could get the man to go away, it was jokes about masturbation… or scientific explanations that went over his head, but the jokes were more fun.

Normally, the upper levels of the tower were empty, but another crisis had brought the team together a week ago and they hadn't quite gotten around to breaking apart yet. The end of the mission had turned into a celebration with too much booze, so they'd stayed that night. The next night had evolved into a surprise movie marathon planned by Hawk to catch some of their pop culture deprived teammates up on the times. With Thor demanding another movie at the credit roll of each show they'd watched, it had turned into super heroes sleeping on Tony's couches while Pulp Fiction played in the background. It was nice to have a little company since Pepper had left, so Tony didn't complain, but he was running low on liquor and cups to put it in since Thor had a habit of throwing mugs.

When Steve didn't move, Tony pursed his lips and went to the window. He'd never been the type to own drapes, so the glass was opaque to keep out of the glare of Manhattan. "Jarvis, bring up the schematics for the engine block I've been working on. And get the capsicle a warm glass of milk; he seems to be having tro-"

"I know that's not what was going on," Steve's tone was level and sure.

The window flared to life with a brilliant blue wireframe of an engine and a sidebar of Tony's notes. Tony flicked his finger over the smooth glass, watching intently as the notes flashed by. When he got to the one concerning cylinder output, he expanded it to the next window over. The glass filled with equations.

"It was nothing," Tony stated, despite the sweat cooling on his bare chest and the tight knot still twisting his stomach.

After a moment, the door closed, leaving only the glow of the projections and the white-blue light of Tony's reactor. Tony let his hand drop from the window. The lines of the wireframe pulsed softly with the rhythm of the tower's arc core. It was so faint that it was impossible to detect in the daytime, but at night, Tony admired the faint pulse. It was almost a heartbeat.

The hair on the back of his neck prickled as Tony realized he wasn't alone. Steve was lighter on his feet than Tony would like to give him credit for. When Tony turned, the Captain was only an arm's length away. The blonde stilled when Tony's eyes fixed on him. In the light of Tony's reactor, Steve's expression was somber and pale. The Captain was dressed for bed in loose cotton pants and a grey t-shirt, but didn't look like he'd woken from a deep sleep. His short, soldier haircut was still perfectly combed.

"Was it your time as a POW?" Steve asked with his tone heavy with concern.

Tony rolled his eyes and went back to his engine block, "Just because SHIELD puts something in my file, it doesn't mean it's true."

"But the conclusion that you were suffering from post traumatic stress disorder is not an unreasonable one."

Tony's shoulders went rigid. "Jarvis, exploded view," he somehow managed to keep his voice level. As the engine came apart on his screen, Tony flicked a few of the obsolete features into the glowing recycling bin by his foot. "What would you know about PTSD? They hadn't even decided it was a real disorder in your time."

"No," the Captain came close enough that Tony could feel his body heat at his back. "But that doesn't mean that I haven't watched men suffer from it. I know what you're going through."

Anger flared through Tony. He whipped around and shoved Steve's chest to get a little distance between them. "Don't you dare. You can pretend to be a lot of things, but don't even begin to think that you understand me," Tony growled without really meaning to.

He liked to act as if his past didn't bother him. He put up shields to keep people away from the still-aching wounds, away from the terror he wished he didn't have. But it didn't change what was there, and for some grade A science project to come waltzing in as if he knew how to suture a wound like Tony's… it was too much.

Steve studied him, strangely unaffected by Tony's outburst. The blue of his eyes was even more vivid in the glow of the reactor, cutting into Tony like he could see what Tony had successfully hidden from every therapist and doctor he'd been forced to speak with in the years since his abduction.

When the Captain didn't say anything, Tony swiped his hand over the window to clear it and said, "Jarvis, let's start from scratch. What do you have in the archives for a baseline engine block?"

A stream of glowing wireframes slid down the glass like radioactive rain as the computer responded, "Sir, if I knew what kind of engine you were trying to build, I could narrow the search."

Tony absently knocked away the images that didn't fit with his mental math, "Just keep them coming." He pressed his index finger to a Chevy block and dragged it off to the side as a possibility.

"I do understand." Tony opened his mouth to argue, but Steve beat him to it, "I had a buddy named Bucky who spent months in Hydra's camp. Watching him struggle to fight them off even after he was safe, I learned a lot about your modern disorder." The word 'modern' was almost bitter. It hung in the air longer than the rest of his statement.

Tony left his hand hovering over the glowing engines, his work forgotten. He remembered the notation about Steve's friend, so small it was barely a footnote in the man's file. It was the reason he'd gotten involved in the war, the reason he'd dropped into the heart of enemy territory and become the legend everyone knew him to be. Tony also knew James Buchanan Barnes had been killed in action with the Captain looking on. Even with his textbook knowledge of the man, he'd never heard Steve talk about him.

"I may not understand what they see on brain scans of broken soldiers, but I know that Bucky would wake up screaming and I was the only one who could hold him down so he wouldn't hurt himself," the Captain explained in a voice that was distant.

Tony glanced over his shoulder to find that Steve was just as far away. The man hadn't moved, but his mind was fifty years in the past with the people he'd known and lost. Tony didn't want to do this. He'd fought alongside the other Avengers, but he really didn't want to get too close to them. The closer he was, the harder it would be to accept when one of them got killed. Being emotionally remote was easier. On Tony's deserted island, he was king and he didn't want any well-meaning rescue boats changing that.

The words came to his lips like a defense mechanism, cold and hard-edged, "Well, I'm sorry about your fuck buddy, but I'm fine. It was just a dream." Tony turned his back to the Captain before he could see the hurt in those bright, sapphire eyes. He pulled an Audi racing engine over with the Chevy and continued to scroll through his options.

Powerful hands clamped down on his shoulders and spun him around. For a second, Tony was certain Steve was going to hit him. He instinctively threw his arms in the way to block the blow, even knowing the Captain could break both of his arms with one good hook. Instead, Steve yanked him tight against his barrel chest. One strong arm slid down around Tony's waist and the other curled comfortably around his shoulders.

Pressed against the Captain's body, Tony blinked and then blinked again, his brow dipping, "Um… what are you doing?"

He felt more than heard Steve's chuckle, "Most people call it a hug."

Tony squirmed in the Captain's hold, pressing at the man's chest with both hands, "Quit it. I don't do hugs."

Steve easily outmatched him without his suit and didn't seem particularly inclined to let him go. In fact, the man gave him a light squeeze and asked, "Who doesn't do hugs?"

"I think even in your timeframe, bro hugs are not supposed to last longer than a second or two. You're breaking the rules here, Cap."

"What's a bro hug?"

"Seriously, we live in a tower full of super heroes. If you don't let go, I'm going to yell rape," Tony threatened, though they both knew it was an empty threat. He'd sooner go into battle naked than live down Thor and Natasha's endless mockery for a situation like this.

Steve sighed, his breath rustling Tony's hair, "Is it that bad?"

Tony stilled and curled his hands against the Captain's chest. He quickly analyzed the warmth radiating from Steve's frame and the strong arms circling him like nothing in the world would hurt him again. It wasn't bad, it was even kind of nice, but it wasn't what he was used to.

The closest he'd ever come to something like this was during his years at MIT. Like any good college student, he'd used his time away from his parents to experiment, though it was difficult to find willing partners since he'd been in his teens at the time. There was one man he'd been with, almost as brilliant as he was and just a few years older. It was nearly something real.

The media hounds had ruined it before it could grow into its potential and Tony never saw him again. After the fallout with his father, Tony had thrown himself into his studies and started sleeping with a girl a week hoping to get back in his father's good graces. Looking back on it, he was foolish to think that the old man could ever forget something like that. Howard Stark could strangle the media so not even a whisper of his son's tryst made it to the national news, but it didn't mean he would forgive his boy.

Tony relaxed against Steve, letting his cheek rest against the other man's shoulder, "No, it's not bad, just weird."

Steve stroked meaningless patterns on his back, encouraging Tony to relax even further, "Why is it so weird?"

"Are you going to start singing Kum ba yah? Because I don't think I can handle that."

Steve snorted, "I'll skip Kum ba yah this time."

"Good. This moment doesn't need any extra help getting cheesy, we're already there," Tony complained even as he slid his arms up around Steve's shoulders.

He let the Captain take a little more of his weight. Steve could probably carry him in his armor, let alone like this, but Tony wasn't willing to get held like an infant. His feet stayed planted in the carpet. Sleep dragged at his mind, reminding him that it was the middle of the night. Tony was no stranger to staying up at all hours, but that usually involved coffee.

Wrapped up in the Captain's comforting warmth, all he wanted to do was go back to sleep. Some small part of him knew that going to bed meant Steve would go back to his own rooms and the idea of staying with him seemed more appealing. Tony doubted that the Captain's good will would extend that far. It was Tony who was thinking about old relationships while Steve was probably just trying to soothe a friend.

Tony started to drift off to the steady, strong sounds of the Captain. The sound of the man's breathing balanced perfectly with the throb of blood rushing through his body just beneath Tony's ear. Vaguely, he wondered if a heartbeat that was augmented by super soldier serum had a different rhythm than one that was kept alive by an arc reactor.

The arms at his waist shifted back so Steve could wrap his hands around Tony. The Captain lifted him easily, bracing one arm under Tony's ass as he carried him.

"What are you doing?" Tony mumbled with little conviction.

Steve's lips brushed against the top of his head when he responded, "Putting you to bed."

Steve went a few steps before Tony's eyes fluttered open with realization: the Captain just kissed the top of his head. This was not a casual attempt to comfort; it was exactly what Tony suspected. He was never wrong. When the Captain set him down on the tangle of sheets, Tony stayed upright. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stared up at Steve as if it would produce answers without the need for questions.

Noticing Tony's attention, Steve knelt on the floor in front of him and took a gentle hold of Tony's biceps, "Are you alright?"

"You were sleeping with Bucky, weren't you?" He didn't intend on being so blunt, but he wanted the truth and being nice gave people the room to dance around a question. His curiosity had always been stronger than his need to keep people at a distance.

Steve drew away from him, his eyebrows pinching together and his mouth parting with obvious shock, "How did you-"

"Know? I didn't know until you confirmed it, I just had suspicions."

Dropping back onto his heels, Steve ran his hand through his hair. His gaze flicked around the room. It ended up settling on the glowing images on the window in his attempts to avoid Tony's intense stare. "Bucky and I were in a relationship before the war started, but he was always looking for the perfect woman and trying to set me up with one too. After the serum, after Hydra, neither of us were the same. We started sleeping together again, but it was different… it was more…" Steve trailed off, struggling to find the right words.

Tony supplied him with a few, "Desperate? Forced? Kinky?"

"Meaningful."

Tony's mouth twisted to the side as he admitted, "Well, I was a ways off." There was something else in the Captain's file that was bothering him, "Wait, wasn't there a woman? The one you were working with."

"Peggy?" Steve sounded surprised.

"Yeah, sure. I've seen enough of the reels to know something was going on there."

"Tony, things weren't the same back then. The only chance we had in surviving our own neighbors was to find a nice girl to settle down with," Steve explained as he got up.

"So, you were just faking it."

Something like pain crossed Steve's face. He sat on the bed beside Tony, leaving plenty of space between them, "No, I actually did care about Peggy. I cared about her more than I thought I would."

"But what about Bucky?"

"Bucky was the one pushing me to make things work with Peggy. He thought it was a good chance for me to make a normal life."

"And you just wanted to be with him."

Steve's muscles corded under his thin shirt, his answer was strained, "I- I did."

"But you ended up with her?"

Steve surged to his feet, "Damn it, Stark! Do you have to pick at something until its bleeding?"

Tony had never seen the Captain lose his temper. He'd gotten mad, gotten in arguments, but never yelled like that. Even as Steve was mumbling an apology, Tony was putting the rest of the pieces into place. The Captain had clearly done some research about what it meant to be a gay man in modern times, but there was still a lot left he wasn't considering. Being heroes in the public eye meant they had to be just as secretive about it as men were back in Steve's day.

Tony's eyes went wide as he recognized the decision he'd subconsciously made. He was already thinking about how they could make it work. How about that. Tony wasn't as against the idea as he thought he might be, it was a little stupid since he knew how much risk was involved, but he was willing to bet the over-all benefit was worth it. He'd have to repair the damage he'd just done and there was only one good way he could think of.

Steve was halfway to the door when Tony stopped him with a statement, "My SHIELD file is incomplete."

So far from the light of the arc reactor, Steve was just a shadow in the darkness, but Tony thought he turned towards him. Steve didn't have to put pressure on him for details; Tony had already decided to tell him.

"I didn't report how bad it really was. You know about the bomb and the arc reactor from the file, that was impossible to leave out since I came back with a nightlight in my chest, but I wouldn't tell them about the torture," Tony said quietly as he studied the point where his scarred fingers curled in the sheets. Talking about it brought it to the edge of his mind. He could practically hear their foreign screams. "It was almost a month before I came up with the idea for my suit. During some of that, I was still recovering from the bomb blast. The rest of the time, they tried to force me to make the Jericho missile. They'd hold my head under water until I started to black out, then they'd let me up just long enough to demand that I make the missile. It would go on for days."

Steve padded across the room silently, the thick carpet swallowing his footsteps. Tony didn't look up as the mattress dipped with the other man's weight.

"When the water didn't work, they found other ways…"

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"I've been running from it ever since I got back," Tony admitted weakly, hating the way the words felt on his tongue. They were true and that's what made them so sour. He had monuments built in honor of his bravery, art dedicated to his work as Iron Man, but he still couldn't shake a few months of being at the mercy of terrorists.

Steve's hand snuck across the distance between them and gently freed the sheet from Tony's fingers. When it was gone, he locked their hands together. Tony returned the gesture, squeezing the Captain's hand hard enough to hurt a normal man. He could feel himself drifting back into that cave, which didn't typically happen when he was awake. It only swallowed him in his sleep, and then chewed him into a sweating, trembling pulp before sending him screaming back into reality.

Tony focused on the engine choices on the wall and realized exactly which block would make a good base for his idea. He closed his eyes against it, not wanting to hide in his work like usual, "How long before Bucky stopped having nightmares?"

Steve stayed quiet long enough that Tony looked over at him. The Captain's sorrow was barely hidden, "He never did. The night before we deployed the last time, he had one so bad he woke up half the camp."

"That's not terribly comforting," Tony said dryly. "That can't make for very restful sleep for you. Why do you keep going for guys with PTSD? Though, I guess you knew him before he had problems, so really I'm the odd man out on this one." Once he noticed the Captain's arched eyebrow, Tony bit off his ramblings.

As if it was an answer, Steve said, "I've never met a man like you."

"Billionaire playboys? I assure you there are a few of us. Hugh Heffner really started it with his mansion full of-"

"Men who hide their best traits behind pomp and attitude like they're something to be ashamed of."

"I'm not ashamed."

"Then why hide?"

"I'm not hiding. What makes you think I hide anyth-"

Steve slid closer and wrapped an arm around Tony's waist, pulling him flush against him, "I've seen the reels." Tony smirked to hear his words tossed back at him. "You act like a superior asshole in the public eye, while you're risking your life privately to save those who have no voice. You've done it with us too. You act like you don't care, but no one cares more than you do."

Tony didn't know what to say. The only other person who'd figured that out was Pepper, and she'd been working for him for years and years before she'd noticed. The Captain was more intuitive than Tony thought he was and it caught him completely off guard.

Before he could think up a good response, Steve leaned down and kissed the smooth metal casing of Tony's reactor. Tony's breath caught in his throat. Every inch of him tingled as though he'd been administered an electric shock. Steve tightened his grip and lifted Tony up so he could place another kiss in the center of the reactor without having to bend down.

Tony squeezed the Captain's shoulders, his fingers digging into the hard swells of muscle. He wanted to tell Steve that he couldn't feel any touch on the reactor, but somehow the action itself was making his blood pump hot and fast. He took in an involuntary gasp of air and adjusted his legs so they rested on either side of Steve's hips.

"This," Steve whispered against Tony's chest, "This made you what you are. It made you better."

"I know that, I accepted it years ago."

Steve's eyes seemed to absorb the light from the reactor, gleaming brilliantly as he looked up at Tony, "But you haven't accepted the event that made you. If you hadn't suffered at their hands, would you fight as hard for those who suffer now?"

"That doesn't make the nightmares any easier."

"No, I know," Steve admitted and placed his lips against the reactor one last time before lowering Tony to his knees.

Feeling a little foolish, Tony settled into Steve's lap. He left his arms draped over the taller man's shoulders, studying features that were too young for a man so old. "Alright, I want an honest answer to this: Are you just interested in me because I remind you of Bucky?"

Steve chuckled, but there was something sad about it, "You're nothing like Bucky, Stark."

Tony wasn't sure whether he should be offended or pleased, so what he stuck on was, "Stark was my father's name, call me that again and this night is going to be real short."

"Alright, alright," Steve conceded, raising his hands in the air in mock surrender. "Tony it is."

"Yeah, and considering you knew my father, calling us the same thing should weird you out a little." Something struck Tony like Thor's lightning. His eyes widened just before he burst into laughter at the idea.

"What?" Steve asked. When Tony didn't stop to explain, he repeated, "What?"

"My father," Tony took in a gasp of breath and tried to subdue his uproar. "My father was the biggest homophobe in the world, but he gave a gay guy the super soldier serum. Oh, the old man is rolling over in his grave."

The flush that spread on Steve's face was hard to see with just the light from the reactor, but he clearly wasn't as amused by the idea as Tony was. He gave Tony a perturbed glare.

"Come on, you've got to admit that's pretty ironic," Tony flashed him a devilish grin and sat up on his knees so he could press his mouth against the Captain's lips.

Fire spread through him from the point of contact. He'd forgotten how good another man's mouth tasted. Steve's hands jumped into motion. They slid up Tony's spine, pressing Tony against him even as the Captain carefully kneaded the muscle under his shoulder blades.

Taking in his breath hard through his nose, Tony tilted his head and opened his mouth at the questioning touch of Steve's tongue. He curled his fingers in the Captain's short hair and rolled his body against the hard perfection of the super soldier. The room was quiet enough that Tony could hear his facial hair scraping against Steve's smooth skin.

Briefly pulling away, Tony said, "Jarvis, music," and delved back into Steve's mouth.

Some AC/DC clicked on, a song called 'Spoilin' for a Fight'. Though it wasn't exactly the kind of mood music Tony had in mind, he wasn't planning on stopping his lip lock again. The wet slide of Steve's tongue over his was more important that what beat played in the background.

Steve caressed Tony's ass through the cloth of his pajama pants. His hand gravitated to the small of Tony's back just before he readjusted them on the bed. He lowered Tony so carefully that Tony grit his teeth. The Captain was trying to keep his strength in check, which Tony could appreciate, but he wasn't in the mood for gentle.

Tony bit Steve's lip and snarled, "I don't mind a few bruises, Cap. Stop treating me like a girl."

"I don't want to hurt-"

Tony ripped the Captain's shirt from collar to hem, and then fixed him with a feral smirk. It was like giving Steve permission. All of the gentility vanished, replaced by a man who was as desperately hungry for sex as Tony was. Their clothing fell to the floor in scraps, not a single item surviving their need.

Tony let out a soft, appreciative moan as he stripped away Steve's boxer-briefs. It didn't matter whether it was the serum that made the Captain so large, or if he was always ridiculously well endowed, because Tony was too wrapped up in how magnificent the man's cock was. It was long and thick, standing proud in the blonde nest of curls between Steve's legs.

Steve didn't give him a lot of time to admire it. He pushed Tony back into the mattress, pressing open-mouthed kisses down his throat and chest. Tony lifted his head to give Steve better access and watched with half-lidded eyes as the bigger man paused long enough to give the arc reactor another lingering kiss. The emotion Steve put into it made Tony shudder pleasantly.

Despite the over abundance of stimulation, Tony's mind was in high gear. There was another puzzle he was trying to solve: why the Captain was so affectionate towards him. Before he'd come wandering down the hall earlier in the evening, Steve and Tony had been civilized at best. On the battlefield, Tony looked to Captain America for his insightful tactics, but off the field, they argued and butted heads. Tony didn't really like to follow and Steve preferred to lead. If the Captain didn't have as much experience as he did, Tony wouldn't listen to him at all.

"How long have you been thinking about doing this?" Tony asked, his voice roughened by lust as Steve wrapped his oversized hand around Tony's erection.

Steve braced himself up on an elbow, drawing his hand slowly up Tony's fully erect cock. He didn't look away from his work when he asked, "What makes you think I've been planning this?"

A squeeze to the base and a thumb pressed firmly over the tip had Tony writhing on the sheets. He cursed loudly and canted his hips up into Steve's hand. Pleasure filled his head like foam, taking up all the space. It was almost a full minute before he could adjust to the sensation of Steve pumping him, and make real sentences again, "The way you, ughn- the reverence you give my reactor. You think about it a lot."

"Do I?"

"Don't be coy," Tony groaned, making Steve smile. It was bittersweet, like the one he gave when he was talking about his old lover. Tony furrowed his brow.

Steve set his slightly sticky hand on Tony's hip, leaving Tony's erection alone. Tony wanted to cuss and howl at the lack of release, but he still had some measure of control. As Steve crawled up Tony's body, his fingers lingered over the ragged scars pitting the skin next to the arc reactor. It was the only answer Tony needed. The Captain did spend a lot of time thinking about the reactor, and he knew exactly what it was designed for. It was in Tony's file, but it was buried so deeply under the comments about his narcissism and lack of team skills that he doubted anyone read that far.

Steve nudged Tony's legs apart and settled between them. Their bodies slid and ground against each other almost frantically, trying to get any kind of traction they could. Tony reached up into the headboard to steady himself. His gasps only seemed to spur the Captain on.

"Shit, Steve," Tony moaned and wrapped his arms in a vice around the taller man's neck, giving up on the headboard because it was coming loose from the wall. "There's lube in the nightstand. Get it."

The only light was coming from Tony's chest, so it took a few moments of fumbling for Steve to pull out a bottle of Ultraglide. AC/DC flipped to 'War Machine' and Tony decided he'd heard enough. Even as Steve was pouring lubricant across his fingers, Tony tilted his head towards the ceiling, "Jarvis, play something a little more romantic."

"Sir, that file has not been updated in several years, should I choose something I find appropriate?"

Tony let his head fall back into his pillow, mentally cycling though possible songs. He was leaning towards a little Aerosmith, but the Captain spoke up before he could decide, "Jarvis, could you play some Billie Holiday?"

"Of course, sir."

As the first few thin strains of 'If You Were Mine' started, Tony studied Steve with a smile. It was so old fashioned, so out of date that it was charming. Even with Jarvis's high-end surround speakers, the music sounded like it was coming from an old radio.

Steve noticed his grin and a flush of red crept across the man's neck, "I know it's not really your style, but give it a chance."

"I kind of like it," Tony admitted, sitting up so he could catch the Captain's mouth in a kiss.

As their tongues dueled and tangled to the soulful cry of muted trumpets, Steve got Tony positioned so he was kneeling over his hips. His lube slicked fingers trailed up the insides of Tony's thighs, leaving gleaming trails across the soft skin just behind Tony's balls. By the time Steve's hand got to its destination, Tony was trembling against him.

"If your music is going to make us go this slow, we're switching back to AC/DC," Tony grumbled against his mouth.

Steve got the not-so-subtle hint and spread Tony's legs wider with his free hand. Two fingers pushed knuckle deep into Tony's body, sweeping away his every thought. It had been longer than Tony realized since the last time he'd been penetrated, but the slight burn was not enough to make him stop. A deep, ragged groan ripped out of Tony's throat and filled Steve's mouth. The soldier growled in response, making Tony shudder.

Steve pushed him back into the mattress again, his large frame coming down over Tony to fill up his vision. Steve's hand never stilled. He slipped a third finger in with the other two, pumping hard enough to leave Tony breathless and senseless. Tony couldn't utter a single syllable that sounded remotely like a word. After a few guttural noises and a long, low moan, Tony quit trying to talk and just took in the sensations Steve was wringing from him.

He let his gaze roam over Steve's features, over his sharp nose and strong jaw line. Even without the doctors altering the rest of him, Steve had a very handsome face. The way concentration and lust played together made it even better. A bead of sweat rolled down the Captain's brow, but Tony reached up to wipe it away before it could reach the man's eyes.

As Steve slid his fingers free, Tony asked, "Why haven't we done this sooner?"

Steve sat back to scrape the lube bottle off the bed. With sweat giving his every muscle and line a silver-blue sheen, the Captain looked just as god-like as Thor, but without the swollen sense of entitlement. Tony wanted him so badly he ached.

"I didn't think I had anything to offer you," Steve admitted. It was honest, frank, and every ounce of it was the skinny kid from Brooklyn talking.

Tony watched as Steve spread a handful of lube over his perfect cock. He wrapped himself willingly around the man as Steve resettled between his thighs, "You're still not used to it, are you?"

"No," Steve breathed against Tony's lips.

Tony almost lost himself in the kiss, in the firm weight of the Captain on his smaller frame, in Steve's callused hands spreading his cheeks. Almost. Then he remembered, "Wait, wait, wait.

Steve pulled away just far enough to meet Tony's eyes, his expression puzzled.

"Did you get a condom out of the drawer?"

"What?" Steve's confusion faded into amusement, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I'm not too worried about getting you pregnant."

Tony nearly slapped his own forehead. The Captain was on ice through the sexual revolution and the alarming spread of the associated diseases, he didn't have a clue. Tony had to be sure, "When's the last time you had sex?"

"Tony," Steve groaned, his face close enough that Tony could feel the heat of his blush. "Let's just-"

"Tell me." Worry was sneaking into Tony's guts. If the Captain had exposed himself to something without realizing it, they would want to start testing right away. There was no way to tell what diseases could take hold in his augmented system.

"The nineteen-forties."

Tony's eyebrows arched, "Oh." Tony hadn't been with anyone since the last time he got tested, but the Captain had been awake for over a year without taking a new partner. Instead of commenting on it, Tony said, "Well, we're probably okay then, but if you plan on fucking anybody but me, wear a rubber."

Steve lifted Tony's legs and let them rest in the bend of his elbows. The head of Steve's cock nudged against his entrance. Tony took in a stuttered breath and willed himself to relax. Steve pushed inside in one long, steady move, dragging an embarrassingly loud moan from Tony's kiss bruised mouth.

It was too much and not enough. He couldn't think straight. Tony clutched at Steve's shoulders like a lifeline, leaving angry, red welts across the pale skin. His nails didn't break the surface, but Tony was certain the Captain's skin was too thick for that.

Once he was as deep as he could get, Steve brushed his lips over the shell of Tony's ear, "You're the only plan I had."

There was something strangely satisfying about Steve's words. With his brain running at about fifteen percent capacity, Tony wasn't sure what exactly it was and he didn't dedicate much time to figuring it out. He enjoyed the rush it gave him and turned his head to catch the other man's mouth. His kiss was more teeth and tongue than anything, but Steve reciprocated eagerly.

"Hard," Tony managed to say.

Steve obliged. Each long stroke out was accompanied by a hard slam in. The rough thrusts had Tony's eyes rolling back in his head. Instinctually, he noticed they were sliding across the bed and he flattened his hands on the headboard to keep them in place. The muscles in his arms trembled from the effort of trying to keep up with Steve's strength.

"Oh god, Tony," Steve cried, one of his hands shooting out to join Tony's on the headboard.

His palm connected with the brushed metal with a bang and what remained of the bolts and screws holding it in place shattered. The headboard slammed into the wall, sending out a cloud of plaster dust. It might've been someone else's wall for all Tony cared, but the Captain's rhythm faltered as he took in the damage.

Tony adjusted to compensate, shoving down onto Steve's cock. "You're killing me, it's just a wall," Tony gasped. "Don't stop."

Steve wrapped a hand around Tony's hip and changed his position. Tony had to lift his legs higher on Steve's trim waist to make it work, locking his ankles behind the man's back. The next thrust in scraped across his prostate and set his nerve-endings ablaze. Ecstasy made Tony's back bow and an unrecognizable shout rip out of him.

The next thrust hit the same spot, and then the next, until Tony felt like he was coming apart at the seams. He threw his head back and the Captain's mouth immediately gravitated to his exposed throat. Teeth worried the tender skin over his raging pulse, marking him. Tony didn't care. He'd wear Steve's mark with pride.

"Close," Tony exhaled, not capable of much more. "St- Steve."

Steve seemed to understand him. He picked up his pace, slamming into Tony so quickly he was certain they were going to fuse. "Could keep going," Steve said.

Tony believed him, but he couldn't last any longer. It had been too many months since the last time he'd had someone in his bed. And it had been too many years since he'd been with someone who turned him on as much as the Captain did. "Can't. I'm too- I'm…" Tony couldn't get any words strung together, so he just hoped his need came through.

Steve only had to touch him once and it was the fourth of July behind Tony's eyelids. Pleasure rocketed to his toes and back, making him scream Steve's name loud enough to wake the entire tower. He was aware of Steve pushing into him twice more before the scalding heat of his release was pulsing into Tony.

Tony forced his eyes open so he could watch the unadulterated bliss take over Steve's face. It made Steve's body impossibly tense, his lips parting slowly with his low groan. After he was done, Steve carefully drew out of Tony and rolled off to the side.

For a moment, Tony stared at the dark ceiling while he tried to catch his breath. The subdued notes of Billie Holiday crept into his awareness, along with low, incomprehensible voices coming from the hall. Beside him, Steve tensed and sat up.

One voice broke above the others, not remotely concerned about being overheard, "I do not understand why we are huddling outside the door like ferhalm. They have coupled and should be congratulated."

Steve groaned and dropped his face into his palms.

A frantic, "Shut up, Thor," from Clint only made the others louder.

Natasha deadpanned, "You're right, why don't you go in and congratulate them?"

Tony didn't move. He was exposed in every sense of the word, legs still spread out, looking debauched in a way that only he knew how. Instead of worrying about it, he asked, "Jarvis, is my door locked?"

"It is now, sir, but my calculations suggest that it will not keep him out."

"Might want to get under the covers, Cap."

Just before the overzealous Asgardian burst into the room, Banner's level tone quieted the others. His voice was too low to understand through the walls, but whatever he said seemed to convince them to leave the new couple alone. All of the voices faded. Only when they'd been gone for a full minute did Steve lay down. He pulled Tony against his side, letting one hand come to rest on the arc reactor.

"We should probably get cleaned up or this stuff will be cement tomorrow," Tony advised.

Neither of them started for the bathroom, so Tony assumed it was a minor issue. He didn't want to get up and Steve seemed content to stay wrapped around him. Tony shoved his pillow out of the way so he could rest his head on Steve's arm. The Captain opened it across the bed to give him more room.

"You do realize we're going to get grilled over breakfast."

Tony smirked, "I can go down first, I'm pretty good at evading pointed questions about my sex life. You grab some bagels while I draw off their fire and we'll rendezvous up here."

"I thought I was the tactician," Steve joked with a smile that broke into a yawn.

"You've got to give me some room to grow." Tony was starting to drift off when he remembered the music, "Shut everything down, Jarvis."

Billie Holiday clicked off in the middle of a verse and the wireframe engines went black. It left them with only the light from Tony's chest. Steve cupped his hand over it, blocking a majority of the white-blue glare. There were no screams in the darkness, no one demanding weapons from him. When Tony finally slept, his dreams were filled with engines that needed work and a super soldier with warm hands and a disarming smile.

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This was meant to be a one-shot, but ended up being set up for a story with plot. Gasp. Now you know how it started, if sex was what you came for, then you may or may not want to continue. There will be more sex, especially if Tony gets his way.


	2. Tony is Loud

This is random at best and has very little to do with the rest of the plot. Sorry about that, just some team building to give me a better idea of the characters.

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Clint rolled out of bed on instinct, just as the knife slammed into the mattress. He knew he should've slept in his own room. Balanced on his toes in case Natasha still wasn't quite awake, he exclaimed, "Seriously, Tasha? We've talked about a million times about you bringing weapons into bed."

Natasha's voice was thick with sleep, her suppressed accent surfacing as she spoke, "Jarvis, lights."

Once a warm yellow glow flooded the room, Clint's keen gaze roamed around. Nothing seemed to be out of place. Natasha's wall of weapons was undisturbed. The backlight fluorescents were still flickering to life, but he knew the layout well enough to know if something was missing. His gear was still piled on the crimson chair by the window and the clothes Natasha had shed on the way to bed the night before were spread across the floor in the same approximate patterns.

There didn't seem to be any sign of what had woken them. Well, there was no sign of what had woken Natasha. Clint came back to consciousness with the distinct feeling that he needed to move, quickly, and the compact blade still clutched in his girlfriend's hand was testament to that.

Natasha set the blade on the bedside table next to a streamline alarm clock. Even when she was only wearing tiny, black panties, the woman still looked like she was ready for a fight. She grabbed Clint's shirt from the chair back, her attention focused intently on the door as she slipped it over her head.

"Something's wrong," she said simply, every trace of grogginess gone from her tone.

Clint bolted to his feet, "What is it?"

Natasha shook her head, her hair bouncing lightly with the movement. It was only mildly distracting for Clint.

"Toss me my pants." He caught the jeans without looking and pulled them on. Cocking one ear towards the door, Clint asked, "Jarvis, has the tower been compromised?"

The computer responded instantly, its smooth, calm voice almost a relief, "No, the tower's security protocols are intact. Shall I run a scan of the building, sir?"

"Yes."

Natasha was already moving. She was never one to wait around while someone else cleared a building. She picked up the knife and tucked it in the band of her underwear, going to the door. Clint followed automatically. While the Russian edged the door open to get a look at the hall, Clint went to find a weapon. A medium caliber Smith and Wesson was the closest thing at hand on Natasha's wall of toys, so that was what Clint grabbed. He was slamming a clip into the base when he noticed Natasha's smirk.

Edging forward, Clint stuck his head out next to Natasha's, and then he could hear them. Shouts and groans echoed from the far end of the hall, the two people making them were clearly having a good time. The one Clint recognized first was Tony. His voice was very distinct and it was not the first time he'd hear the man cry out in pleasure.

The other voice was also a man, which had Clint scratching his head. If he'd assumed anything was true in this world, it was that Tony was a playboy extreme. Clint had never seen a woman on his arm that scored less than a nine on any man's scale.

Clint and Natasha traded looks as Tony's pitch got sharper, his cries more frantic. Before Clint could even decide what the best approach to the situation was, Natasha was walking down the hall with intent.

"Tasha!" he hissed.

Natasha tossed a smirk over her shoulder, "You're not even a little curious?"

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Thor was out in the hall before he remembered that the others tended to complain when he wandered around naked. He didn't understand what the problem was, since Asgardians were built the same as humans, but he'd agreed to wear pants when he came out of his room. In Asgard, things were so different from Earth. Whenever Thor was certain he was getting used to it, something else would be deemed 'inappropriate' or 'strange' and he had to learn a whole new set of rules.

Thor thought the humans needed to relax a bit.

He picked some loose pants out of the dresser, a pair that Agent Barton had given him. They were adorned with some kind of strange cartoon creature with large ears. He remembered Clint calling it a "mouse" of some kind. When he wore them down to breakfast, the others seemed to think they were very amusing on him.

After slipping the pants on over his nakedness, he returned to the hallway. The sounds that had woken him were still going strong, and he smiled for it. For two of his friends to find happiness such as coupling with each other gave him great joy. A celebration was in order, though he did not have mead to help them commemorate their time together. He would have to ask Tony's computer friend to get some for him.

He was very surprised that the Captain was able to bed a man such as Tony. As far as he could tell from the cries, it was the Captain who was dominant part of their pairing. He would have to share an extra mug of mead with Steve to congratulate him for taming the metal man. It seemed like no small feat.

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It was difficult to block out the sounds of sex. Thankfully, Bruce wasn't trying to sleep, but Tony's ragged screams were hard to ignore. He stared at his computer screen, at the same block of text he'd been looking at since the shouting started. Bruce didn't like to be involved in other people's sex lives. It reminded him that it was next to impossible for him to have his own sex life. Too much excitement never ended well for anyone.

Bruce was considering meditation when Thor walked past his open door. Bruce tracked him with his eyes until he was out of sight, curious as to where the demi-god would be headed in the middle of the night. There were a lot of things they didn't know about Thor, and undoubtedly, this was one of those things.

The other guy didn't like him much. He didn't like to lose and Thor had stood against him and held his own. Bruce tried not to let that affect his view of the demi-god. Other than his extremely odd habits, Thor seemed like a good man. Even now though, seeing Thor made the other guy press against his skin. He calmed him with a deep breath.

Bruce realized belatedly that Thor was headed towards Tony's room, and the shouting. "Oh dear," he muttered.

Tony's scream broke into his thoughts, the loudest one so far this evening, "Steve!"

As far as he could tell, he had two options. One was to let Thor cause whatever problems he was en route to cause and not get involved, and the other was to make sure Tony and Steve got a little privacy. It took him longer to decide than it probably should have.

Outside his room, he heard Thor say, "I do not understand why we are huddling outside the door like ferhalm. They have coupled and should be congratulated."

Bruce took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. The others were out there being a pain in the ass as well. Setting his laptop aside, Bruce wandered out to play the peacekeeper. It was a strange role for him. Natasha was egging Thor on while Clint wore a mortified expression.

He didn't raise his voice, mostly because he didn't like to, "Guys, maybe we should all get back to bed."

Clint motioned at Tony's door with his thumb and asked, "Didn't you hear them? That was the Cap and Stark."

"Yes, I think most of Manhattan heard them, but maybe we can leave them alone about it until morning?"

Thor's eyebrows knit, "But how are we meant to celebrate when mead is frowned upon in the early hours of the day?"

"Bloody Marys," Natasha offered.

Clint added, "Mimosas."

"Tony will be good with anything that has liquor," Natasha concluded with a thin smile.

Thor looked confused, probably since he wasn't familiar with any of the drinks they'd mentioned. The spies left him to ponder. Natasha grabbed one of Clint's belt loops, her eyes hooded and suggestive.

As she led the bowman down the hall, Bruce rubbed the back of his neck and suppressed a sigh. The walls weren't nearly thick enough in this tower. If he wanted to get any kind of work done, he would have to move out of the upper levels.

Bruce walked back towards his room, Thor on his heels, "Please tell me you don't have any plans on coupling this evening."

The demi-god chortled and shook his head, "No, my coupling partner is many miles from here, out in your Newer Mexico."

They watched Natasha and Clint wrap around each other just before they disappeared into the Russian's room. Bruce paused, his head cocked to the side. His room was the next one over. Natasha tended to be very quiet in bed, but Clint wasn't. The bowman talked, a lot.

"I'm going to go down to the lab."

"Good idea, my friend. I am going to go find out where to get some of these Bloody Mimosas. There is much to celebrate." Thor turned to go, looking absurd in his Mickey Mouse pajamas.

Bruce almost corrected him on the name, but decided that he really didn't care.

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Also, in an author side note, Thor is wearing Mickey Mouse pants partly because it's funny and partly because it's me pointing at the Disney purchase of Marvel and going "What the HELL?" Weirdest combo ever. I now have a mental image of Disney princesses hanging out with the Avengers crew. It cannot be unseen.

Thank you to everyone who has stopped to review, you guys are the reason there's a chapter 3!


	3. The Redline

AN: OMG, a plot has surfaced! I really didn't plan on this when I started writing the Steve/Tony smut, but this jumped into my brain and wouldn't let go. Really, the first chapter is unnecessary. Though it does show you how their relationship started, so yeeeaaaah.

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Steve pulled up to the gated garage on the west side of Stark Tower. His motorcycle rumbled as it idled, sounding just as impatient as the man who built it. Though it was a little showy with its bright blue paint job and brushed chrome exhaust system, Steve loved it.

There were enough bells and whistles to make his head spin. The machine had interfacing with SHIELD's network, allowing him to get a feed from headquarters anywhere, and a special download of Jarvis's system that let him control all the computer functions with his voice. Tony had added that feature after explaining the tech panel unsuccessfully three times.

All of the gadgets were useful, but what Steve loved the most about the bike was that Tony had designed it with him in mind. The man liked to act as though it was no big deal, a good excuse for a project. Steve knew better. Tony didn't do anything without a reason and spending days building a custom motorcycle by hand that he would neither own, nor ride had to have a good reason.

While he waited for the gate to rumble open and listened to Jarvis greet him, Steve wondered for the hundredth time if he should get rid of his apartment in Brooklyn. He and Tony had been dating for months. If Steve counted their first time together (which he did), they'd officially been a couple for five months and two weeks. Tony liked to think that they weren't a couple until their first date, which was almost three weeks after they started having sex. Either way, staying in the tower at this point made more sense than driving back to his apartment for clean clothes. They shared a bed a few times a week when things were calm, every night if there was a crisis that required the whole team.

Steve swung his motorcycle into a spot beside a Maserati, a brand he knew from before the war. Not that he'd ever seen one in person until he met Tony. Like all of Tony's cars, it was polished mirror-smooth. Steve used the reflective surface to adjust the collar of his worn out bomber's jacket and fix his hair before he shut down his bike.

"I've paged him several times, sir, but he is still in his workshop," Jarvis warned him as he stepped into the elevator.

Steve shook his head with a smirk, "Doesn't surprise me. New project?"

"Yes, sir."

He'd gotten strangely comfortable conversing with the tower's computer. As bizarre as it was that the tower had its own brain, Steve found it extremely useful. Information was as close as asking a question to the air. Having it downloaded to his bike had been disruptive at first, especially when it was trying to give him instructions in the middle of a drive, but Jarvis helped him get around in the city he no longer recognized.

The moment the elevator doors opened to Tony's shop, Steve's ears were assaulted by obscenely loud rock and roll. Steve didn't get Tony's song choices. He was working on learning about how music had evolved during the decades he'd been asleep. The Beatles were one of his favorites, but Jimmy Hendrix was growing on him. The music Tony played was in a decade he hadn't gotten to yet.

The workshop was huge. Even with as often as Steve had been inside, it still made him pause and look around. Most of Tony's machines were way beyond Steve's comprehension. He hadn't quite gotten over the fact that a computer could fit into someone's palm, since they'd taken up whole rooms when he'd seen Stark senior's first model. The floating digital panels that Tony engineered were a little too much to handle.

It didn't take him long to find Tony. There was a new vehicle, some kind of muscle car, in the center of the shop with its hood up. One of the robots Tony liked to verbally abuse was digging through a toolbox near its front bumper. Steve didn't know whether it was Dummy or Butterfingers since Tony seemed to be the only one able to tell them apart.

As he rounded one of Tony's workbenches, he finally caught sight of the man's legs sticking out from under the car. They were clad in grease-stained jeans, one tennis shoe moving in time to the rock song. The robot arm held a tool low to the ground. Tony's hand came out from beneath the car to grab it, and then promptly tossed it out again. The wrench clanged against the cement, barely missing the robot.

"Since when is a wrench a ratchet? You're a pile of scraps on wheels. I said ratchet, Dummy. Should be in slot forty-eight B. Give me another wrench and I'll-"

Steve put his foot on the edge of the dolly Tony was laying on and slid him out from underneath the car. He smiled at Tony's surprised look, "You have no idea what time it is, do you?"

"You're early," Tony said defensively, not even bothering to look at his watch.

Pushing his hands into his pockets, Steve raised an eyebrow at his eccentric boyfriend. He would've been annoyed, if he wasn't so used to it. When Tony got an idea, there was no telling when he'd realize the rest of the world had moved on without him. Too many times to count, Tony worked through a meal or an important meeting because there was something interesting to build.

At this point, Steve found it oddly endearing, especially when the billionaire was covered in black smudges and looking up at him as innocently as he was capable of being. "We said lunch at one," Steve reminded him.

"Right, and you're early."

It was almost five minutes after one. Steve had trouble keeping up with a lot of the technological advancements, but a digital clock was not one of those. Jarvis kept the clock on his bike updated to the second.

Tony got up and gave him a quick kiss that evolved into something deeper when Steve snagged the front of his shirt. Disregarding the engine grease, Steve wrapped his arms around Tony's back and pulled the smaller man against him. The coarse hair of Tony's beard made the skin of his mouth tingle.

Breaking away, Steve said, "Go shower, I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry," Tony answered as he leaned in to recapture Steve's lips.

The ways Tony could manipulate his tongue always made Steve's toes curl. Kissing him made Steve burn with want, no matter where they were or what they were doing. It was almost embarrassing how turned on he got by a simple look or touch. Tony knew exactly how to push his buttons.

Before he could get too hot and bothered, Tony withdrew, "I was thinking tapas for lunch. And no, it's nothing like shawarma."

Steve hadn't been particularly fond of their first victory feast, so it was a bit of a running joke between the two of them whenever Tony took him somewhere new. Exotic cuisine didn't always agree with Steve's "incredibly boring palate," as Tony liked to put it. He'd grown up on homemade American classics that had never included things like curry or cumin or any of the other spices that weren't salt and pepper.

"What is it?" Steve asked warily, wanting to argue the choice if he thought it was necessary.

Tony squeezed his shoulder and walked off, his face an unreadable mask, "Going to shower."

"Tony, what is it?"

"Give me ten… no, who am I kidding- make it thirty minutes at least."

"Tony!"

The other man turned so he was walking backwards, "I could be convinced to go faster if I had somebody to wash my back."

"Did I mention I was hungry?" Steve had to raise his voice since Tony was already stepping into the stairwell.

"Your loss, Cap."

Steve sighed. He wanted to take Tony up on his offer, but he knew they'd be delayed an hour or two and his stomach was already collapsing in on itself like a black hole. Tony was right, he was always hungry. On one hand, it was nice to be able to eat anything he wanted, but on the other, he was ready for another meal almost as soon as he was finished and he missed getting drunk. It was an unfortunate side effect of the serum.

"Jarvis," he called to the air, sitting at the closest workbench to wait. "Can you tell me where he's planning on taking me?"

"I'm afraid I've been sworn to secrecy, sir."

"Alright, can you define tapas for me?"

It was like playing a game of hide and seek with Jarvis's database when Tony intentionally tampered with it to mess with him. Tony would seal away what he thought Steve would ask for and Steve had to come up with the questions that took advantage of the loopholes. What really sent Tony over the edge was when Steve "cheated" and didn't use the computer to get his answers. He could find something physically a lot faster than he could play Tony's game. Unfortunately, there wasn't a way around it when the thing Tony was hiding was digital.

After a lengthy silence, Jarvis admitted, "Sir, that word has been removed from my vocabulary."

"Okay, bring up Tony's agenda for the day."

A blue projection appeared at the desk, showing an hour-by-hour breakdown of Tony's life. Under one o'clock, it read, "I do have a master's degree. Try again."

Steve chuckled. The man was too smart for his own good. Leaning back in the chair so he could prop his shoes on the table, Steve stared at Tony's note while he thought. Tony was very careful to cover his bases, always blocking every path through Jarvis with mechanical precision. What he usually forgot to take into account were people. The human element was always the most unpredictable.

"Jarvis, get Happy on the phone for me."

By the time Tony got back from his shower, Steve had an address, a reasonable idea of what tapas was, and a new plan for transportation. Steve was pleased to see that his boyfriend remembered to dress down. The suits were nice, but they drew attention. It was sort of Tony's signature and Steve preferred to date without a line-up of guards keeping the public away.

In dark wash jeans and a t-shirt that proclaimed, "Yes, I am a genius. Next question," Tony was only slightly less noticeable. It was hard to hide a man whose personality was larger than life.

Tony stopped mid-stride and tilted his head. Steve was trying not to smirk, but was clearly failing. It didn't surprise him when Tony asked, "How'd you get in?"

"If I keep telling you how I do it, you're going to keep making it harder," Steve said with a laugh. He got up and pushed the chair underneath the workstation.

Knowing Tony would be on his heels, he started for the elevator. He could feel Tony's scrutinizing glare on his back. It felt good to get the best of him on occasion. Tony won almost all of their arguments, mostly because the man thought a mile a minute. Steve didn't mind, he was a good sport, but he liked it when Tony got that rare dumbfounded expression. It was the fact that it was rare that made it adorable.

They got into the elevator together and Steve punched the button for the ground floor. Tony pulled out his latest hand-held gadget, assumedly to follow Steve's trail through the database. His focus was so intent that Steve had to lean over and steal a kiss. For half a second, Tony's thumbs stilled while their tongues languidly danced. Steve's lips twisted up on one side when Tony's device beeped and he immediately pulled away to check the results.

"You called Happy?" The question was torn between shock and annoyance, with an undertone of pride.

Jarvis cut in, "You have reached the ground level."

Steve entered the lobby, intentionally not looking back, "Yeah, and I told him to cancel our ride. We're taking the subway."

He didn't have to try too hard to picture Tony's face. His eyes would be wide enough to see the whites, his mouth hanging open just slightly while he tried to figure out if Steve was being serious. Trying to get the man out of his comfort zone was difficult, but Steve was determined to help Tony to step out into the real world every once in a while.

The only sound was the heavy thump of his boots on the tile, and then Tony was following him again, "I'm not taking the subway. You don't want Happy to drive us, fine, we'll take one of my cars."

"It's not Harold, he's a nice guy."

"Harold? Nobody calls him Harold but his mother."

Steve pushed open the deceivingly light double doors that faced the street, holding one for Tony to go through. It was cool outside for May, cool enough that Steve thought about telling Tony to get a jacket. Considering he was already stretching Tony's tolerance by suggesting the subway, he decided against it.

"I want to take the subway. It's pretty interesting if you've never done it."

Tony's glare spoke of murder, but he quickly covered it by pointing in the direction of the garage, "We could take your bike. I haven't been on that yet."

Steve let the door swing shut while he considered. Tony had outright refused to ride on the motorcycle with him, so it was still a victory. It was a much smaller victory. Though, the idea of having Tony's arms around him the entire drive was tempting, but that was if it played out that way. Tony was more likely to grab onto the seat or his shoulders.

"Come on, it's only a few blocks away, and your restaurant is right by the Columbus Circle station," Steve made his decision, turning north.

Tony caught up to him and fell into step on his left, "Do you know why I own sixteen cars?"

"No, but you're about to tell me."

"So that I don't have to take public transportation. The public is on public transportation and, if you hadn't noticed, I'm a bit of a celebrity. Have you been watching that TV I got you?" There was an ounce of panic hidden in his annoyance.

Steve stretched his arm out across Tony's shoulders, enjoying how the smaller man's tension faded at his touch, "Half of New York is still wearing your beard. Lose the expensive sunglasses and the watch that looks like it cost more than the SHIELD airship, and we should be fine."

"When we're getting mobbed, I'm going to hit you," Tony grumbled as he pulled his watch off and stuck it in the pocket of Steve's coat.

"Fair enough."

Tony hesitated again at the stairs leading into New York's underbelly, but only long enough for Steve to get to the first landing without him. By the time Steve was digging out cash to pay for Tony's ticket, the man had his wallet in hand and was eyeing the METRO card machine as if it might start shooting missiles at him.

"You want an all day pass?" Steve joked.

"Oh no, this is a one-way deal. Happy is picking us up from the restaurant."

There was a line of people building up behind them, so Steve ordered a one-way and shoved a five-dollar bill into the machine. He grabbed up the yellow card and passed it to Tony as he made for the turnstiles.

"How come you treat my computers like they have the plague, but you can work the METRO thing like you built it?"

Steve pulled his annual card out of his back pocket, shooting Tony a smile, "I'm on the train a lot."

"I built you a motorcycle," Tony pointed out as he tailed Steve through the metal turnstiles.

"It's a sentimental thing. I didn't have a car back…" he remembered to edit himself just in time, "Back when I lived here before, so I used the subways."

Tony stepped wide around a man sitting on the floor with a guitar. The musician wasn't bad, his strumming a soulful mix of music from the sixties and seventies. It was appealing enough that Tony did an about-face and listened to him. Steve came back when he realized he'd lost him.

"It's very Eric Clapton," Tony said.

The name sounded familiar. Steve knew he'd listened to his music, but the band he was with wouldn't come to mind. Whoever it was, Tony was impressed enough to get some money out of his wallet and toss it in the guy's open guitar case. He was moving again an instant later, picking up where they left off.

"So, what did you use to pay for the train back in your day? Was it shells or shiny rocks?"

Steve rolled his eyes and led them towards the northbound trains. Behind them, the guitarist stopped playing and shouted, "Hey, thanks man!"

It always amazed Steve how hot it was underground. The deeper they went, the hotter it was. Even in his day, people complained that it was like a decent into hell. Steve thought it was all the machinery that made the tunnels so unbearable, but somehow the advances in technology hadn't brought them any closer to cooling things down.

They didn't have to wait long for a train. They got on the first redline that came by, getting some seats near the end. Steve spread his arms out over the back of the rusty-orange bench and Tony leaned casually against his bicep. He could tell Tony was still uncomfortable and it didn't help that the train they'd ended up on was one of the older models.

Flat surfaces everywhere had been written on or spray-painted. Even the glass had words etched into it. Steve wasn't ignorant of the fact that Tony was a bit of a germaphobe, even though he had to research the word when Clint had used it to describe him. Tony didn't like to be anywhere that wasn't clean, which was evident in his extremely sterile home. He didn't like to handle things other people had touched first and he really couldn't stand sharing eating utensils.

Steve was a little surprised he wasn't complaining more. It must've taken a massive amount of self-control to keep Tony from climbing up on Steve's shoulders so he wasn't touching anything. Steve didn't expect to see the outfit Tony was wearing ever again. The billionaire would probably burn it when he got home. Or have it burned for him.

Fortunately, the fact that the train was dirty was the worst of it. A few of the other passengers gave them strange looks, but there certainly wasn't the mob mentality Tony seemed to think there would be. A woman in her early twenties with mousy, brown hair kept glancing at them around her book, flushing when Steve made eye contact with her. Feeling a bit awkward, he gave her a tight smile and she quickly turned her attention to the novel in her lap.

The olive-skinned man sitting across from her got up. Using the overhead rails to keep his balance, he made his way down the train car to sit next to Tony and Steve. "Hey, man," he addressed Tony, his voice thick with the accent of New Yorker born and raised. "Are you Tony Stark? I gotta know, man, I'm a huge fan of Iron Man."

Other passengers turned their heads from their personal distractions. They looked up from newspapers and books and laptops, curious. Steve watched them with a small swell of dread. He was beginning to think that this was a bad idea after all.

Tony cocked an eyebrow at the man, "If I was Tony Stark, why would I be on the subway?" The words were pointed, and clearly aimed at Steve. "Wouldn't I be driving one of my expensive cars, or be in the back of a limo drinking scotch?"

The guy blinked at him as though his words were processing, then leaned back with a deep, belly laugh, "Yeah, I guess you're right. But, man, you look a hell of a lot like him."

"I win the look-a-like contest every year."

Tony's statement made him laugh even harder. He was turning red and slapping the knee of his cargo shorts. A small speaker on the wall announced the next stop, making the man quiet down. He swiped a thumb under one eye as he got to his feet, "You take it easy, man."

"You too."

The train slowed, making everyone that was de-boarding sway slightly. A few dozen people got off and at least twice as many got on. To avoid any more attention, Steve didn't comment on what had happened. The commuters were going back to ignoring them and he wanted to keep it that way.

Thinking back to what Happy had said about their impending meal, Steve said, "I don't know how you think I'm going to get full on miniature plates of food."

"They're designed for tasting. We'll order more than one," Tony explained, his amusement barely hidden. He reached over and squeezed Steve's thigh. "Don't worry, if we have to stop on the way home to get you a burger, or three, we will."

Public displays embarrassed Steve. It had been a year and a half since he'd woken up in a new century, but every little show of affection worried him. He was always concerned that they were going to get attacked or thrown in an asylum for rehabilitation. He'd known boys like him when he was young, boys that were discovered and never seen again.

But when Tony let his hand linger on his leg, he decided he liked it there. No one in this new century seemed to care, and if they did, they didn't dare challenge Steve. Tony's touch wasn't too high, just casual contact that the shorter man was initiating more and more. He did it whenever he was sitting close enough to touch, pressing his thigh against Steve's on the couch or letting his foot wander over to brush his under the table. When he'd started dating Tony, he'd never expected the egotistical playboy to crave contact. It was almost out of place in his laundry list of personality quirks.

Abruptly, the wheels on the train locked up, throwing passengers into each other and pitching a few to the floor. Steve grabbed Tony's arm to keep him from slamming into a handrail. He simultaneously caught a kid with dirty, black hair and helped him upright.

They screeched to a stop between stations, the overhead lights flickering sporadically until the electricity stabilized. Murmuring filled the stagnant silence. A few passengers immediately got settled again, but the rest peered around as though someone on board would have answers.

Tony grumbled something Steve didn't hear, digging his phone out of his pants pocket. The speaker above them clicked and a man's voice came on, "Sorry about the jolt, folks. There seems to be a problem on the tracks ahead, might take a little while to clear it."

The commuters collectively groaned.

"Wonder what it is," Steve said quietly, leaning his head against the scratched glass. The tunnel was dark in either direction.

"I'll know in just a…" Tony trailed off and pressed on his earpiece to help him hear whatever radio he'd accessed. If Steve had to guess, it was probably a police scanner. As Tony's expression darkened, Steve tensed. When Tony spoke again, he kept his voice low so no one would overhear, "A train derailed. It's so bad they're having a hard time getting people out."

Their eyes met and an unspoken agreement passed between them. They had to do something. Tony got up ahead of him, Steve nearly stepping on his heels as they moved towards the door between train cars. The tense sea of people separated for them. As far as Steve could tell, only one wizened old man had a knowing expression. He could have sworn he heard him say, "Get 'em, Cap," as they went by.

Tony slammed the door open and ducked underneath the coupling chain that held the cars together. Gravel crunched when he hit the ground. Steve dropped down after him, waiting for a breath while Tony consulted his phone.

"It's this way, up almost at Fourteenth Street," Tony said and pointed down the tracks.

They'd only just past Canal, so it was about a mile down the rail. Steve hoped there weren't any splits they had to worry about. He assumed Tony could figure out how to get there with his tiny computer, but Steve didn't want to rely on it.

Lowering his pace so Tony could keep up, Steve took off at a run. Thankfully, Tony was in extremely good shape and didn't have any trouble matching him. They sprinted alongside the train for a few dozen yards, drawing quizzical faces to the windows. As they passed the lead car, an employee got out and yelled at them. They didn't stop and the man didn't chase them.

Beyond the train, the tunnel was black. Steve slowed when the darkness was complete, not sure where to put his feet. It would be easy to miss a turn and end up tripping over a rail. He blindly reached out and grabbed Tony. His hand closed on the other man's side, yanking at his shirt.

"Hold on, we're not going to get anywhere like this," Steve said.

He could see the faint glow of Tony's reactor leaking through the thick cotton of his clothes. It wasn't even close to what it was designed for, but the thing put off enough light for them to see. Steve ripped the front of Tony's shirt to reveal the luminous disk. The white-blue light illuminated their dismal surroundings, as well as Tony's glower.

"I could've taken it off."

"Sorry," Steve responded sheepishly. "You can wear my coat when we get there."

Tony resumed their run and complained, "I feel like Rudolph."

"Hey, I know that one," Steve grinned, feeling a little swell of satisfaction that he understood one of Tony's references. Even with Clint's efforts to get him caught up on the times, he was hopelessly lost when it came to modern culture.

"I thought that song came out in the fifties."

"Song? It was a book they gave out to kids one Christmas, just before the war started."

The tunnel unfolded ahead of them about a hundred feet at a time, Tony's reactor wasn't bright enough for much more. Every so often, Steve would catch a gleam of rodent eyes in the dark. The rats were always gone before he and Tony reached them. Otherwise, there was nothing to look at but walls that were black with grime and the occasional pile of trash from vagrants long gone.

Listening to his boyfriend's heavy breathing, Steve realized that a place like this had to bring back some unpleasant memories. Whenever Tony woke up in a cold sweat from one of his nightmares, the first thing out of his mouth was how dark it was. Steve had picked up bits and pieces of the experience with each nightmare, listening to Tony babble as he came down out of his terrified haze. The reality the pieces became made him want to wrap Tony up in his arms and never let him go, but he'd learned very quickly not to touch the smaller man until he was completely awake. Tony was combative when the strands of his dream still had him.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm peachy," he responded dryly. Tony cast a glance over his shoulder, his tone softening, "Just don't start screaming at me in Arabic and I should be good."

Steve joked because he knew it would put Tony at ease, "I don't know much Arabic, I could do a few phrases in German though."

Tony laughed. It was a little forced, the edges of each chuckle clipped off, but Steve's effort wasn't wasted. "I had no idea you spoke German."

"Just useful phrases like 'Put down your weapons' and 'Put your hands where I can see them'."

Tony slowed down and turned towards the wall, the arc reactor brightening a piece of rail that bent outward. The third rail where the trains drew their power was sparking randomly. It was broken, but the power was still flowing through the bad connection. What drew Steve's attention were the deep gouges in the gravel around it, all of the bits of rock had been blasted towards the wall with some force. It was difficult to tell with all the soot caked on the surfaces around them, but Steve could've sworn it looked like something exploded.

He let his gaze drift down the tunnel, narrowing his eyes to pick out scraps of rent metal and particles of wheel leading away from the blast zone. Tony crouched at the point where the rail had broken and what little light there was narrowed on the scorched radius. Faint shouts reached them, impossible to make out. They were just an echo of an echo, but the crash wasn't far.

"Someone rigged it," Tony finally said.

"Yeah, I was getting that feeling."

They got moving without another word, sprinting with renewed drive. In the distance, Steve could make out the reddish glow of a fire. The trail of debris grew worse the closer they got, until they were climbing over chunks of obliterated train. Score marks dragged across the walls where the cars had connected with them, revealing the raw concrete underneath.

To the left, a crowded platform slowly came into view. The open space was thick with paramedics and firefighters, as well as cops and grimy, determined survivors. Beyond the station was the wreckage, filling the tunnel like a twisted metallic blood clot. Steve slipped his jacket off and tossed it to Tony. As they went from a sprint to a jog, Tony zipped the leather coat over his arc reactor.

Natasha's words sprang to mind when they entered the chaos, "Move like you belong."

Even if he wanted to look around to see if anyone was watching them, Steve couldn't pull his eyes off the crash. The last two cars were on their sides and a few firefighters stood with their feet spread over the doorways, reaching down to lift passengers to safety. The rest of the train was jammed up in the tunnel. One car was titled sideways across the narrow space, the next up on its end and crunched against the ceiling as though it was made of aluminum foil. Beyond that was impossible to see, but the fire was definitely burning deeper in the tunnel.

That was also where the loudest screams were coming from. Servicemen and civilian alike were trying to clear the rubble, a few trying to find ways around it. Steve broke into a run again with Tony right behind him. He used his momentum to jump on top of the wedged train car, surprising a few of the fire fighters.

From his new vantage point, he could see how bad it was. Each car was at a different angle, and the deeper they went, the more shredded they got. The tunnel was almost completely blocked just a few feet in. If they had Tony's suit, they might be able to clear it out, but it was going to take some heavy equipment to get through to the survivors.

A fire fighter with thick arms was using a machine that looked like a gigantic pair of scissors to cut into the metal. Others were peeling back the divided pieces as he worked. It was slow going. Between the heavy thrum of the cutters and the shriek of ripping metal, Steve barely heard Tony call out.

"Hey, Michael Jordan, a little help here?"

Steve knelt to grab Tony's outstretched hand, hauling him up easily. When he got his first look at the carnage, Tony's lips pressed into a thin white line and a muscle jumped on his temple. They both knew there wouldn't be many survivors.

No one bothered them as they entered the wreckage. There was too much at stake to stop anyone who wanted to assist. Tony ran his analytical gaze over the mass of metal rammed against the concrete, guiding Steve to a riveted joint, "Can you get a hold of it here? That seam should pop open."

Steve explored the roof with his fingers until he found a grip. It didn't take much strength to strip the weakened rivets, the steel folding back like paper. As soon as the opening was large enough, Tony climbed through. Steve braced his foot against the wall and gave it another tug before he could consider getting his shoulders through the gap. It left his hands feeling raw.

He turned to yell for the paramedics but found a very young cop staring at him with eyes so wide it looked like they might fall out. Before the kid could start asking questions, Steve motioned towards the platform, "Tell them we found a way through." When the rookie didn't move, Steve raised his voice, "Now! Get anyone you can."

The kid scrambled off and Steve slid into the opening after Tony. It was disorienting to walk across the side of the subway car, stepping over handrails with glass crunching underfoot. At the far end, he could see where the mechanical scissors were making their way through. Tony was gathering the people that were awake. He urged them towards the hole Steve had made in the ceiling, reassuring them softly.

Steve caught one woman's arm as she tripped over the raised rectangle of door sticking up off the ground. She turned her face toward him, her expression caught between relief and lingering fright. There was a deep cut across her forehead, but she appeared unharmed otherwise.

"Careful," Steve told the next man in line, pointing down at the floor. "Watch your step."

Two paramedics clambered through the opening, gear in tow. The young officer followed them in. They took over the shaken handful of people, letting Tony examine the rest of the car. A middle-aged man lay on one of the cracked windows, his hands folded over his chest. Steve suspected the other commuters had already tried to care for him. The way his skull dented inward just above his ear told Steve enough, but Tony crouched down to press his fingers to the man's thick neck. The corner of Tony's mouth ticked and then he was up again.

Where the end of the car used to be, there was the siding of another part of the train. Red light leaked in through the gaps where the metal didn't quite meet. Tony gave it a quick once over and then stepped back. He didn't have to say anything, just show Steve where it was weakest. Steve grabbed a bar that was still bolted solidly and hoisted his mass off the floor. Swinging his weight forward, he kicked the sidewall with both feet. It gave way and the firelight flooded the car.

Tony had to turn sideways to get through the narrow opening, the leg of his jeans catching on a piece of metal with a loud rip. If it was difficult for Tony to fit, there was no way Steve could force his bulky frame without getting shredded. He pushed against the siding again, but it was jammed against the wall of the tunnel and wouldn't give.

"Tony," Steve called. "It's too tight, I can't get through."

All he could hear was the crackle of the flames and the workers behind him. Steve's chest tightened. Through the breach, he could see that the next car had split open like an overripe fruit. Fingers of ragged frame reached towards the ceiling, the remnants of glass glittering yellow in the fire burning on the other side.

"Tony!"

Tony came back into his view dragging a body, "He's still breathing."

The twig-thin teen had a badly mangled arm and blood seeping from his mop of curly hair. Steve hoped his neck wasn't broken, because there was no good way to get him to the paramedics. Tony adjusted his grip underneath the boy's arms and lifted him with a grunt. Steve had to lean against the shredded flooring to take him. The sharp edges peppered his shirt with holes as he wrapped his hand in the collar of the teen's coat and carefully pulled him through.

"Got another one," Steve shouted at the medical team.

As soon as the kid was clear, Steve maneuvered him so he was laying flat. One of the paramedics dropped down next to him, grabbing a temporary splint and a package of gauze out of his kit. Steve went to the breach to see if Tony found anyone else.

Tony had somehow maneuvered his way past the next car and Steve could barely make out his head and shoulders through a spider-webbed window. He was crouched down, examining something. Suddenly, Tony's body jerked backwards and his expression flared with panic.

"Tony?"

Tony stilled, that unnerving calm Steve only saw on his boyfriend before a dangerous fight coming down over his alarm, "Get them out of here."

"Who?"

"Everyone. Police, fire department, everybody." Tony looked at him through the fractured glass, "There's a bomb."

For the first time since he'd stepped into the subway, Steve was cold.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Never fear, more will appear! Insert dramatic music here.


	4. Lockdown

For the record, I don't know much about bombs. I did research and now the feds are probably going to break down my door. If you DO happen to know something's not right about the bomb, just tell me so I can fix it.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Yells filled the tunnel, but they were muffled by all the layers of wreckage between Tony and the crowd. There was enough noise in Tony's head to compensate. Everything he'd ever learned about explosives flashed through his mind.

The bomb was nestled in the undercarriage of what Tony estimated to be the middle of the subway train. Unlike the bomb that took out the wheels, this one had eight bricks of C4 attached, enough combustive potential to bring down the levels above them. What disturbed Tony the most was the timer. There was still eight minutes left, but, taking the size of the task force into consideration, he estimated that the accident had happened at least an hour earlier.

The first bomb was the lure, the second was the real finale.

Tony dragged his phone out and centered the bomb in the transparent screen. The wires scanned in first, then the components. He sent the image to Jarvis for analysis. "Okay, electrical blasting cap hooked into a timed detonator," Tony muttered as he processed what he was seeing.

He knew sophisticated missiles and military tech extremely well, but this was the first time he'd ever sat face to face with a basement bomb. There were a million and one ways to make a bomb, so each one was like a fingerprint. If he could salvage enough of it, the police might be able to pinpoint a culprit. That was assuming he didn't turn into a fine, red mist in the next ten minutes.

Tony checked his phone, but didn't have any results from Jarvis. His house computer had enough processing power to stream every movie ever made all at once, so it was unusual that it would still be analyzing his image. To be safe, Tony sent it again.

"They're clearing out the tunnel and the bomb squad is on the way," Steve's voice reassured.

Glancing at the menacing, green numbers, Tony knew they'd never get there in time. He was down to six minutes and hadn't touched a single cable. "Find a way back here, I need you," Tony told him. He wanted to think that he needed Steve to keep looking for survivors, but he couldn't deny it was because the bigger man would settle his nerves.

There was a loud bang that made Tony jump. By the second and third thud, he knew it was Steve breaking the flooring out of the train car. It got quiet again and Tony was expecting it when Steve's lips touched the back of his neck.

"Can you disarm it?"

"Of course I can," Tony said, running his fingertip over a white wire. He was debating whether it was a fuse wire, or a dummy. There were a dozen more lines than any blasting cap needed. They ran out of a heavy gray box where the timer was housed and into the casing that protected the plastic explosives. "See if you can find anybody else. I don't want to start cutting things until the area is clear." He kept the 'just in case we explode' to himself.

The crunch of Steve's combat boots faded and Tony checked his phone again. There wasn't a response from Jarvis. Cussing softly, he pushed the device into his back pocket. He was on his own. The easiest route would be to remove the blasting caps, but the thick metal casing bolting the C4 blocks to the undercarriage probably had a safeguard trigger. If he tampered with it, there was a good chance he'd set it off. Tony swiped a hand over his forehead and into his hair, focusing instead on the timer.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tony caught Steve moving around the wreckage with a creased brow. The super soldier was realizing what he'd already noticed. No one had survived this part of the crash. There were bodies everywhere, or pieces of bodies that had been sliced to ribbons by the metal blender of train. Tony hoped there were others, but he wasn't naïve.

"So many," Steve said, his words so low they were almost inaudible.

Tony knew the man's shock would turn to rage a half a second before Steve punched a chunk of siding. Steel slammed into concrete with a fist-sized crater in the center. There was blood on Steve's knuckles. Tony wasn't sure if it belonged to him or one of the victims.

With his stomach twisting hard enough to make him nauseous, Tony used his pocketknife to unscrew the timer housing. He tried not to count with the timer as he worked. The last screw fell to the ground and he let out a long exhale through his nose. The lid came loose. Tony held it in place for a moment while he debated how likely it was that there was a tripwire.

"Steve, you should get out of here."

The Captain walked over to him, "They'll put a guy on the moon before that happens."

Tony's throat was too dry to laugh, so he smiled wanly, "You really need to start watching that TV I got you. Man on the moon happened in the sixties."

"Damn… I'm sorry I missed that," Steve lamented and leaned against the undercarriage. Tony could tell he was drained, more emotionally than physically. He knew the feeling. "You said you could do this."

"Are you baiting me, Rogers?"

"Is it working?"

Tony lifted the lid a quarter of an inch and craned his neck to peer inside. There was a tangle of wiring, but none of it seemed to be directly attached to the cover. Deciding it was safe, Tony tossed the rectangle of plastic to the side. The nest of wires he revealed made him want to scream. It was there to throw off any would-be defusers, but it was a mess of soldered metal and rainbow tubing.

Steve gaped at the electronics, and then looked at Tony with questioning eyes. Tony couldn't answer him, couldn't assure him. He wasn't sure if he could sort it out in three minutes. His hands flew across the colored cables, mentally taking stock of where each one connected.

"Tony," Steve's fingers brushed against his bare collarbone, just under the jacket, and settled on his shoulder. "We should go. Everyone is safe."

The blue one was definitely a dummy, so was the red one. The white one led directly into the timer, but it also touched a battery that was hiding under the tangle. It could be a power source for the clock.

"Come on, we need to go."

Tony's eyes flicked to the clock. Two minutes left, not enough time to get away from the blast radius. Steve might survive at that distance. Tony's insides would be gelatin that fell off a five-story building. There was only one option. "I can do this," he said.

He pulled the white wire. The clock kept ticking. His analysis continued. The green one went into the base of the timer, got lost in the nest, and two green wires came out to go to the C4. Tony's eyes tried to track them. There were too many lines, too many twists. A black wire also went into the timer. Too many options. There was a half dozen lines going from the clock to a small box that Tony realized was the charge.

"Tony," Steve implored.

They were down to a minute.

"Too late for the minimum safe distance thing," Tony barked at him. "Just give me a second…"

There was no backup charge. Tony scoured the casing. It was bolted in, but if it came out quickly, there'd be no chance for it to deliver the electrical payload to the blasting caps. It wouldn't matter which wire was actually the fuse. If he was wrong, they were going to die in a few seconds anyway.

Tony didn't waste time with the bolts. He grabbed Steve's wrist and slapped the man's hand down on the charge, saying, "Rip it out. Rip it out, now!"

Steve yanked the box free from the casing. Wires of every color snapped loose and the metal screamed. The timer clicked down the last few seconds. Zeros blinked across the screen. When they didn't explode, Tony let out a breath he didn't notice he'd been holding. He was lightheaded. Suddenly, he was tugged against Steve and wrapped in a hug so tight his back popped.

"God bless your brain," Steve said with a laugh, pressing a kiss to Tony's forehead.

Tony chuckled with him, "Next time, we're taking your bike."

"Deal."

It was another few minutes before someone from the bomb squad appeared. While Steve showed them the way through, Tony called in their ride. Getting to Happy was no easy task. Between the cops that had dozens of questions and survivors recognizing Tony on the way out, it took intervention for them to get to street level. Tony had never been so thrilled to see his bodyguards in all his life. They swooped in like the secret service, holding the crowd back and redirecting the police inquiry to another time.

When he and Steve emerged, blinking, into the sunlight, Happy was waiting by a black town car with the door held open. "Sir," was all he said.

"Did you bring them out here?" Tony asked, motioning to the dozen men in neatly tailored suits and dark sunglasses.

Happy smirked, "Figured you could use a little backup."

Steve ducked into the back seat of the car and slid over to make room. As Tony followed, he said, "You deserve a raise."

"Just doing my job, sir."

"No, seriously. A raise and a bonus. Do you want a BMW?"

His driver shut the door behind him without a word. Tony let his head loll on Steve's shoulder, the last shreds of his energy vanishing. To keep from dwelling on the dead, Tony thought about improvements to Jarvis's wireless input. His big blonde slipped an arm down around his waist and got Tony readjusted so he was resting on Steve's pectoral.

Once they were comfortable, the Captain propped an elbow on the windowsill and balanced his head against his palm. He stared out at the buildings of Manhattan, his blue eyes unfocused, unseeing. Steve was never talkative after missions or battles. Tony had to ask him why one day, but not today. Today he was tired and really just wanted to shower and drop into bed and that topic was a little too deep.

Tony chattered to fill the silence and to keep from going to sleep in the car, "We really shouldn't cross tapas off the list. I really think you'd like it. You get a chance to try a bunch of different stuff. The place on Columbus doesn't just have the traditional Mexican tapas, they have everything. There are these olives stuffed with cheese and-"

Steve's stomach growled. "Can we not talk about food?" he sighed, closing his eyes.

Considering Steve was hungry before they left and he'd run around burning god knows how many calories ripping up train cars, Tony suspected that the word starving didn't even begin to cover it. He should've thought about it. Tony sat up, "Happy, we need to stop and get something to eat. Any recommendations?"

"I can wait until we get back to the tower."

Tony ignored him, mostly because there wasn't a lot to eat at the tower. His personal chef wasn't coming in until six to make dinner and he always brought his supplies in a cooler on wheels. Of course, Tony hadn't actually opened his fridge in a few days, so he wasn't sure if the cook had left anything behind. It was doubtful. Tony didn't do leftovers.

Happy was already moving into a turn lane to take them down Canal, "Why don't we go by Angelo's?"

"Done. Perfect. You know what I want," Tony said and leaned against Steve.

He was about to ask the other man what kind of Italian food he would eat when Steve questioned, "Is that place still there?"

"And hopefully as good as you remember."

"Do they still have the lobster ravioli?" the hopefulness in Steve's tone was barely hidden.

Maybe Steve didn't have a completely boring palate after all. Tony turned and propped one leg up in the seat, letting his arm rest behind Steve's shoulders, "Well, I have good news and bad news."

Steve slumped in the chair, "They don't. Um, I guess a chicke-"

"I wasn't done," Tony said patiently. "With modern technology, we've discovered that lobster ravioli has about a billion calories, most of them fat. Good news is that Angelo's still makes it better than anyone in town."

Steve's smile was tired, but genuine, and sweet enough that Tony caught it with his own mouth. They'd kissed in front of Happy a few dozen times, but Tony could feel Steve's blush heat his cheeks. It was cute that the Captain got embarrassed so easily. Tony wrapped his hand around the back of Steve's head, parting his lips in an invitation Steve never turned down.

Tony didn't hear Happy get out of the car and only realized he'd returned with food because the smell of it made Steve break away. Those beautiful baby blues beseeched him and begged forgiveness all at once.

Tony snorted, his mouth twisting up at the corner, "Go ahead. Better that you eat than die of starvation in bed."

By the time they got to the tower, Steve had finished both of his orders of ravioli and was polishing off the bread they'd thrown in the bag. From a scientific standpoint, his immense metabolism was an enigma that demanded research, but Tony had decided months ago that it wasn't very polite to ask his boyfriend to be a lab rat. He didn't need to understand what made Steve function to enjoy his company. Though his curiosity was nearly unbearable every time they shared a meal.

Steve picked at the edge of the brown food sack, clearly searching for something else.

Tony smacked his hand with an open palm, "If you touch my veal caprese, this will come to blows." Tony picked up the bag and reached through the front seats to hand it to Happy, "Carry this in. I don't trust the bottomless pit with it."

They piled out of the car at the front entrance, Tony waiting until Happy opened the door for him and Steve getting out the other side. Happy jogged ahead to type in the access code for the tower's double doors.

"I wasn't going to eat your food, I wouldn't leave you without lunch," Steve told him with a sidelong look that said Tony should know better.

"Uh huh, like that time YOU had pan seared red snapper?"

"It was nine-o-clock at night. I thought you'd already eaten!"

"Your flight got in at eight. I was waiting for…" Tony stopped short because the door wasn't open yet.

Happy had a frown plastered on his face and was re-typing the security code for a third time, "Sir, the tower is in lockdown."

"That's impossible," Tony muttered. The tower was designed to go into lockdown only if there was a massive breach in security. That included unauthorized access to a handful of the research and development labs on level twenty and the storage facility for the Mark suits. An icy tendril of uncertainty wormed into Tony's chest. He pressed the speaker and said, "Jarvis, end lockdown and report."

Happy tried the door and shook his head.

Tony thumbed the button again, "Jarvis, report."

When there wasn't a response, Tony got his phone out and pressed his index finger on the glass to wake it up. He paged through the phone's functions, opening up the access to Jarvis. A small, glaringly red window appeared that said Jarvis was offline. Tony touched a round icon in the bottom corner and put in the reboot key.

"He's shut himself down. It's possible someone tried to hack into him. It'll take half the night for him to reboot manually, but I can-"

Steve's hand closed over the phone, blocking it from view, "You're tired. This can wait until morning."

"Unless I can get him to come back online, we're not getting into the tower and I'd rather you not rip the door off the hinges," he grumbled and took the phone back.

"Tony…"

"I just need to reroute through the secondary servers to give him a- Those are down too. What the hell?"

Steve sighed and walked off, presumably to see if he could find a way in. If he could get a good connection, Tony could have the tower up and running and be in the shower before Steve could make it around the block. The problem was that every path into Jarvis's system was offline. He'd specifically set up digital back doors in case something like this happened, but he couldn't get through them.

Beside him, Happy offered, "Mr. Stark, I could get a hotel arranged until the tower can reboot."

Tony waved him off and tried to access the camera feed for the server room. Static filled the screen. He was seriously considering throwing his phone when Steve pulled around on his motorcycle. The blonde super soldier jumped the curb and brought the bike up to the doors, holding out his helmet.

"Come on, we can go back to my place."

Tony stared at the helmet, then at the empty space behind Steve, then at the helmet again. "Happy could drive us," he suggested.

With a roll of his eyes, Steve turned the helmet over and pushed it down on Tony's head. He had the chinstrap snapped before Tony could argue, "You made it, you should ride on it at least once."

Admittedly, Tony's first thought was that his hair would be a mess, but the second was the overwhelmingly depressing statistic of motorcycle crash fatalities. He'd only decided to make the bike for Steve because the man would probably put a dent in the other car and walk away. He'd never really planned on riding it. It was a little ridiculous, considering all the risks he took in the Iron Man suit, but at least then there was a layer of gold-titanium alloy between him and other objects.

"Who will carry the food?"

"Get on."

Whenever Steve got the 'I'm in charge here' tone, Tony had a hard time doing anything other than what he said. He still hesitated before he tossed his leg across the rumbling motorcycle, saying over his shoulder, "Happy, follow us in the car and make sure I don't die. Bring my food."

"You're not going to die," Steve stated, sounding exasperated, and opened up one of the bike's saddlebags. "I'll take the food. You can go home, Happy. We won't need your services the rest of the day."

"He's on my payroll, you can't tell him what to do."

Steve took the paper sack from Happy's hands and stuck it in the open bag, "Then you tell him."

When Tony's attempts to glare holes in Steve's head didn't work, he grumbled, "I don't think I have much of a say in it."

Tony's ever-faithful driver looked back and forth between them. Happy was a good guy, very reliable, but he didn't deal with strife well. Any time Tony and Pepper argued, Happy would hide rather than take sides. It didn't matter that Tony signed his checks.

Taking pity on him, Tony let him leave, "I'll call you if I need you."

Tony tried not to grab Steve's waist like a terrified girl when the bike jumped into motion, but failed miserably. Once they were moving, he felt safe enough sitting back and shifting his hands to sit lightly on Steve's hips. The traffic in lower Manhattan was getting fairly heavy, but the drive into Brooklyn was still enjoyable enough. Tony almost forgot that he was supposed to be nervous as they crossed the river.

On the other side of the water, the buildings slowly shrank from skyscrapers to three and four-story rises with shops at the base. The shops gave way to apartments and tiny houses with the occasional school or library mixed in. As they pulled up at a pale stone building with garden windows, Tony realized with a whisper of guilt that he'd never been to Steve's apartment. Steve had offered before, but somehow they always ended up in the penthouse floors of Tony's tower.

"It's not much, but it's home," Steve said when Tony kept staring.

A half a dozen quips about Steve needing to ask SHIELD for a raise came to his lips, but Tony swallowed them. He didn't want to be a complete ass. Like he could be with Steve peering at him expectantly. "It's… nice."

Some measure of relief crossed Steve's face, then he chuckled, "It's nothing compared to your place."

"Yeah well, I get tired trying to get around in the tower," Tony took off the helmet and fiddled absently with his flattened hair. Between the subway and the ride to Brooklyn, there was no salvaging it. Steve had seen him worse.

They went inside, Tony cringing a little at the fact that the front door didn't have lock. Steve led him up a flight of stairs. He stepped over a pigtailed girl on the landing and said, "Hey Maddie."

The child smiled up at him, freckles bunching on her round cheeks, "Hi Steve!" The moment she'd greeted him, she was back at work on a My Little Pony coloring page.

Tony very nearly stepped on the crayons that were spread out all over the black and white tile. "That's really a hazard, you should-"

Steve grabbed his arm and dragged him down the hall. Unconcerned, the child continued to color. They passed a door that was propped open with a sack of flour. Tony determined that the apartment was Maddie's home by to the toys scattered from the living room to the entryway. They were all ponies with neon hair.

At the end of the hall was a door marked '2C'. Steve stuck his key in the lock and let them into the apartment. Somehow, the space was not what Tony was expecting, but suited Steve perfectly. The walls were painted a muted green with old and new photos hanging on them. There was a punching bag suspended in the corner of the living room, with a battered barrier of cinderblocks protecting the flimsy drywall behind it.

There was a worn, brown leather sofa and a stack of books and a drawing pad on the coffee table, but Tony didn't see the television he'd given Steve. Or the computer. Or the stereo. In fact, there wasn't a single piece of electrical equipment that didn't date back to the fifties or later. Even his lamps looked old.

Tony looked around, feeling oddly out of place, "Where's the TV?"

Steve tossed his keys on the coffee table and went into the kitchen with Tony's meal, "Uh, I haven't gotten around to setting it up."

"I told you I would help you."

"Yeah, I know."

Tony hoped Steve was heating his food up because he was getting hungry. It was almost dinner now and the last thing he'd eaten was a whey protein shake when he'd finished his morning run. The sound of the oven banging shut eased him, so he returned to exploring Steve's apartment.

The bookshelf next to the couch was covered with research books on everything from the civil rights movement to the Iraqi war. Each one had a creased spine, as if they'd been read a number of times. The very top shelf had a variety of mystery and war novels, but they didn't look as well used.

Trinkets littered the space in front of the books. There were metals so old the ribbons had rotted away and a bayonet that was spotted with rust. Tony reached out to pick up a framed photo of an army squadron. He didn't see Steve among them, so he assumed it was Bucky's regiment before Steve got into the war. The photo was yellowed with age, but preserved fairly well.

Something cold pressed against Tony's other hand. He looked down to find Steve trying to give him a short tumbler with amber liquid in it. His fingers closed around it and he lifted the cup to his nose. It smelled like scotch.

"I figured I should have some in the house in case you came over," Steve said with a smile, sipping on a beer.

Tony took a swallow. It was a good brand, good enough that Tony wondered why he didn't own a bottle. He set the picture beside what remained of a metal of honor, stepping back against Steve. The bigger man wrapped his arms around Tony and put his chin on his shoulder.

"Second row, third one from the left."

Tony's eyes scanned the faces until they settled on a handsome man with a cocky smile. His hat was tilted off to one side, adding to his rakish appearance. "I certainly don't blame you. He's cute," Tony admitted, taking another swig of the scotch. It settled in his stomach and warmed him. "What brought the two of you together?"

Steve was quiet long enough that Tony figured he wasn't ready to talk about it, but he finally said, "Bullies."

Tony turned, one eyebrow going up.

"I started a lot of fights when I was younger, but it was usually with guys twice my size. Bucky stood up for me and we sort of stuck to each other like glue afterwards. He was always there, trying to make things better," the soldier explained with a sentimental air. Something he remembered made a smirk touch his lips, but it faded before it could form properly.

Not wanting Steve to sink too far down that rabbit hole, Tony set his scotch on the bookshelf and hooked an arm around Steve's neck. His kiss was demanding, forcing a response from Steve. The beer bottle fell from Steve's fingers, but neither of them cared. It clinked against the hardwood without breaking.

Steve clutched at Tony's back through the thick material of his jacket. Blunt nails scraped across leather, and then Steve's hands were at the zipper, yanking it open. Tony put his arms out to his sides so Steve could push the coat off his shoulders. As soon as it was gone, he was clinging to the bigger man again, needing more flesh to touch.

Tony started to undo the buttons on the Captain's shirt, but lost his patience for it. The blue check cotton was riddled with holes anyway, so he sent the buttons scattering across the floor. There was an undershirt beneath it that Tony pushed up out of the way to reveal Steve's defined abdomen and pectorals.

At the apex of Steve's chest, Tony's hand brushed against his dog tags. Tony liked the Captain's tags, a lot. He wasn't sure what it was, but he really liked to wear them. He'd borrowed them once when he'd gone out of town, keeping them under his suits every day. When he got home, he expected Steve to be a little angry about the missing tags, but the man had shoved him in the bedroom and fucked him while he still had them on. Tony got hot just thinking about it.

Stripping Steve's undershirt off, Tony ran a finger beneath the metal chain. Steve stilled at his touch. When Tony lifted the tags over his head and slowly lowered them around his own neck, the other man was so quiet Tony could hear the click of metal on metal from the tags hitting his reactor. The longer tag hung down directly in front of it and obscured some of the light.

Steve handled the small silvery rectangle, running his thumb over the raised letters that spelled out his name. He flattened his hand out on the reactor and trapped the tags against it. "They belong here."

Before Tony could ask what he meant, Steve devoured his mouth. A groan pushed out of his chest without a conscious decision from Tony. All he could do was hang on as the Captain dominated their kiss. His tongue twirled around Tony's, tasting every corner of his mouth like he was claiming territory. Hands gripped his ass and hoisted him, inadvertently rubbing his growing arousal against Steve's hip. Tony broke away with a gasp

"Shoes," Steve grunted against his jaw.

Tony toed them off while Steve carried him down the hall. One fell in the living room, the other dropping somewhere near the kitchen door. Tony could smell his veal as they passed, but he didn't have the motivation to mention it. It would burn. He'd eat something else. He was much more interested in the feel of Steve's cock brushing him with each step.

Tony had figured out months ago that Steve enjoyed carrying him around. It annoyed him at first, since it made him feel like a child, but after a while he took pleasure in the gentle pressure of Steve's arms and the close proximity of his heartbeat. He wouldn't let him do it when anyone else was around. Though, more than once, he'd gone to sleep on the couch hanging out with the others and woken up in his bed.

They passed through the bedroom, which Tony managed to steal a cursory glance at, and went into the bathroom. Steve set him on the counter, his tone ragged when he said, "Hold that thought."

The bathroom had the same old styling as the rest of the apartment. Old, but well maintained. The tub was a giant monstrosity with clawed feet and a brassy showerhead fixed into the wall above it. A picture window with opaque, curiously flawed glass stretched across the wall behind the tub. Tony understood what drew Steve to this place. It let his past life meld with his new one without being too overwhelmingly modern.

Tony watched him get the shower running. Even as his gaze greedily drank in the sight of Steve's perfect backside, his mind wandered to his skyscraper. He couldn't stop himself. Whatever had happened was bad enough for Jarvis to shut down completely and he needed to know what it was. If someone had gotten into Jarvis's databanks, there were thousands of classified files for the Avengers initiative, his suits, and his work on the arc reactor. Any one of them could hit the information market within the hour and change everything.

He blinked and noticed Steve giving him a quizzical look. "Sorry," he muttered. "Just wondering if Jarvis shut down before they got anything important. I mean a majority of the MARK files are encrypted, so they'd be useless, but the SHIELD stuff-"

"Am I getting into this shower alone?"

Tony mulled over the database a second longer and slid off the counter, "No."

He let his jeans and underwear hit the floor, stepping out of them. The last shreds of his shirt landed in the sink. Tony unfastened Steve's belt with deft hands and rid the blonde of the rest of his clothes. As soon as they were both naked, Steve hoisted him into the shower and got in after him. The hot water rolled over Tony's back and neck, reminding him just how tired he was, but exhaustion wouldn't make his erection go away. He'd be restless until he found some release.

Steve washed him briskly and Tony let him. While Steve cleaned them up, Tony leisurely stroked the other man's cock, reminding him what the real priority was without being too distracting.

Steve's teeth found his ear and lightly bit the curve, "This would go faster if you'd help."

"I'm helping."

"My dick wasn't all that dirty."

"I could be doing prep work if you'd tell me where the lube was."

A growl rumbled out of the bigger man and he pushed Tony's back against the tile, making the dog tags rattle across his reactor. Tony hissed at the chill on his heated flesh. Steve lifted him and dragged his hands down Tony's thighs to encourage him to wrap them around his waist. Scrabbling for purchase on the slick tile, Tony's grasping fingers eventually found the showerhead. He clung to it, though Steve could easily hold his weight.

Tony never saw him pick up the lube, but two slippery fingers entered him as Steve thrust aimlessly into the cradle of his hips. Their cocks rubbed without any real coordination, the touch enough to make Tony's head swim. He jerked his hips forward to increase the friction and take Steve's fingers deeper. The Captain's index finger found the hidden bundle of nerves first. Tony's world narrowed.

"Fuck, Steve," Tony moaned.

It wasn't really an invitation, but Steve took it as one. With one last thrust of his hand, he drew his fingers out and replaced them with the head of his cock. They'd been having sex often enough that Steve's sudden push in was uncomfortable instead of painful. Tony squeezed the blonde with his thighs to encourage him.

The nonverbal cue was enough for Steve. Gripping bruises into Tony's hipbones, he started a rough pace that shoved Tony into the wall with each thrust. There were only a handful of occasions where their sex had been gentle. Tony wasn't sure why they were so forceful with each other, but it worked for him. He assumed it worked for the Cap because he would've done something about it if it didn't.

As embarrassing as it was, Steve always seemed to last longer than Tony in bed. The man could go for hours. Tony wished he had that kind of stamina, but he was only human. At least, a non-augmented human. The reactor didn't count in this case.

While Steve slammed into him, Tony recited elements in his head to keep his orgasm away. Just the elements would be too easy, so he made sure to include their mass out to three decimal places. He stumbled around cobalt when Steve lightly bit the muscle joining his neck and shoulder.

Tony rolled his hips down to meet Steve's next thrust, feeling him scrape across his prostate, "Th- there, Steve. Yes!"

Steve smiled against the side of his face and put his fingers to Tony's lips. "Neighbors," he reminded him in a breath.

Each gasp of air Tony took had a cry hidden in it, not as loud as he normally was but not quiet either. He lifted his face to the spray of water, blinking it out of his eyes. His balls tightened at a particularly hard surge against his prostate. He was getting too close. Tony went back to his elements. Gallium was the first post-transitional metal after zinc, its atomic mass settling in at sixty-nine point seven two three. He couldn't remember who discovered it, Steve running a hand up his stomach and chest to pinch one of his nipples was too much of a diversion. The taller man brushed the edge of the reactor with his knuckles and Tony forgot what came after bromine.

Tony wrapped his arms around Steve's shoulders, whimpering, "What the hell comes after bromine?"

Without missing a beat, Steve said, "Krypton."

Tony grinned and kissed him. The man was very smart, even if he didn't know that America got to the moon in nineteen-sixty-nine. Tony figured they'd get him caught up eventually.

After a dozen more elements, Steve's hand was at his cock and Tony's IQ dropped dramatically. All he could think about was the white-hot pleasure roaring up his body. Steve's name tumbled out of his mouth like a plea. He whispered it into the other man's short, blonde hair, gripping him tight.

Steve timed a hard thrust with a pull on Tony's cock and dragged Tony over the edge. His orgasm pulsed through him, but Steve's hand bolted to cover his screams before he could alert the whole building. Steve snapped into him a few more times and came with much more subdued moan. Tony felt the soldier's body shudder with the release, stroking his hair absently while Steve finished.

"Water's getting cold," Tony mentioned in a frayed voice when neither of them had moved.

Steve held his hips steady while he pulled out and set Tony on his feet. Tony very nearly collapsed on legs that were like rubber, but Steve grabbed his waist and exclaimed, "Careful."

They finished washing as quickly as they could and shut off the freezing water. Steve only had one clean towel, so they took turns, Steve letting Tony have the first go. Dry, and clean, and sated, they got settled into Steve's surprisingly comfortable bed. When Tony got his phone out to check on the tower's status, Steve took the device and tossed it to the other side of the room.

"Hey! I need that to-"

"Goodnight, Tony," Steve's tone was a warning as he pulled Tony into the curve of his body.

Tony wanted to argue more, but was quickly seduced by the warm body pressed against his and the goose-down pillow under his head. He went to sleep mumbling some kind of threat about what he would do if his phone was broken.

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TBC…

Um, yes, more sex. When the plot gets rolling, it'll be harder for me to fit it in, so I'm getting my kicks in early. No worries though, there will be more porn.


	5. Some Reassembly Required

So I'm now actually planning a trip to New York City and my recent google searches about subway tunnels and bombs have been extremely questionable. Please tell the Feds it was for my Avengers porn.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Steve woke to the smell of burned meat and remembered the veal caprese. "Crap," he mumbled as he climbed out of bed. The oven was on the lowest setting, so there was a chance the kitchen wasn't on fire.

Tony rolled over with the sheets and continued to snore softly. It would be a struggle to get them back. A similar fight had resulted in two halves of expensive silk sheet and a very annoyed Tony. Since they were Steve's sheets this time, at least the second part wouldn't come true. Steve glanced at the clock. It was almost six, so the sheets were safe for the day.

Grabbing a pair of boxers out of his dresser, Steve pulled them on as he walked to the kitchen. The room wasn't full of smoke, which he took as a good sign. He flipped the knob on the oven and dumped the charcoaled meal into the trash.

When the ruined food was disposed, Steve went to the coffee maker, the one technological advance he could get behind. He used to have to go out in the morning for Joe, now he could just flick a switch and have a cup in a few minutes. The machine Tony had could make more types of coffee than Steve could name, but was impossible to use without a degree. Steve preferred his simple brew.

He got a frying pan down from the pot rack hanging on the ceiling and started gathering what he'd need for omelets. There wasn't much Steve could cook, but he'd figured out eggs and bacon early in life. Using a cutting board as a tray, he got a block of cheese, a bell pepper, chives, mushrooms, a carton of eggs, and a paper-wrapped package of bacon out of the fridge. Steve put the bacon in the pan first, and then got to work dicing vegetables.

Halfway through the green onions, someone knocked at the front door. Turning the bacon down to avoid a repeat of the veal, Steve stuck his head into the entryway and yelled, "Who is it?" He didn't want to throw open the door in his underwear and have it turn out to be his elderly upstairs neighbor.

The voice on the other side was quiet, hesitant. Steve knew him immediately, even without hearing the response. "It's me. I mean, it's Bruce."

Steve unlocked the door to let the doctor in, feeling a blush spread over the back of his neck as he explained, "I'm not quite dressed yet."

"Well, it is your house."

Bruce had dark circles under his eyes as though he hadn't slept in days, but Steve was certain he always looked like that. The doctor was a lot like Tony in the sense that he ignored all of his baser needs when there was something to solve. Despite his obvious exhaustion, Banner was as neatly put together as he always was in a dark gray blazer, matching pants, and a burgundy button-up.

"I got the distress call from the tower," Banner motioned in the general direction of Manhattan. "But when I got there, my access codes didn't work. Do you know what's going on?"

Steve shut the door behind him, his brow creasing, "As far as Tony can tell, the tower went into lockdown to protect itself from something. The computer had to reset before we could find out why."

Bruce's gaze crawled over the apartment as he pushed his hands into the pockets of his slacks. Anyone else would just be taking in their surroundings, but Banner was looking for an escape route should he need it. Steve knew from the doctor's file that he'd been on the run too long to feel comfortable anywhere.

"And where's Tony? I haven't been able to reach him," Bruce asked as he trailed Steve into the apartment.

They found the billionaire standing in the kitchen in a pair of Steve's jeans, nursing a cup of coffee. Steve suppressed a grin when he noticed how far Tony had to roll up the cuffs to keep them from dragging on the ground. The pants rode so low on Tony's hips that Steve could see the purple-blue bruising on the prominent bone. It was always worrisome when Steve left bruises, but more than once, Tony had shown them off to the others with strange pride. He'd stopped worrying after a while.

Tony was the one to answer Bruce, sticking Steve with an angry look, "That's because Captain Impatience broke my phone last night."

"I didn't mean to throw it that hard," Steve said apologetically and turned the bacon. It was browning evenly, the smell of it finally overtaking the bitter odor of burned veal. "Do you want an omelet, Bruce?"

"Nah, this is uncomfortably domestic for me. I'll, uh… just meet you guys at the tower later," Bruce suggested to the floor.

"You sure you don't at least want some coffee? You never stay in the States, man; you probably had a long trip," Tony said, leaning the small of his back on the counter. "You should borrow my jet next time, travel in style."

"I'm really okay." Bruce turned to leave and added as an afterthought, "Thanks, though."

"I'll give you Happy's number, you can call him next time you need the plane," Tony shouted. When the front door clicked shut, Tony said, "Poor guy needs to get laid," and took a swig of coffee.

"Sex is not always the answer," Steve chided him while opening the box of eggs.

Tony looked over, his expression bemused, "Says the guy who got laid last night and two nights before that. Any other hypocrisy you want to throw out there while you're at it? You should knock violence next."

Heat rushed to Steve's face. Rather than urge Tony on with a stuttered response, Steve focused on cracking the eggs into a large, glass bowl. That particular task demanded more control from him than anything else he'd encountered. If he didn't keep his strength in check, he ended up with bits of shell and egg innards all over the kitchen.

Tony set his cup beside the cutting board and grabbed an empty bowl out of the cabinet, "You care if we make mine whites only?"

"No, not at all."

As they stood at the counter together cracking eggs, Steve thought about Banner's statement that they were uncomfortably domestic. It was true, but without the uncomfortable part. Steve had come to expect, even need moments like this. They were fragments of normalcy, something the rest of their daily lives was sorely lacking.

When Steve had all but three of the eggs in his bowl, plus Tony's three unwanted yolks, he grabbed the cutting board. "If Banner got a call from Jarvis, it's a good bet the others did too," he mentioned and dumped a hearty serving of each vegetable into the two bowls.

Tony stopped him before he could add the mushrooms to his whites, "Well, the super spies could be there already, but didn't Shakespeare go back home?"

"You know he doesn't get that reference, right?" Every time Tony made a Shakespeare joke, which was every time he saw Thor, the demi-god would directly say that he didn't understand. It was hard for Tony to miss.

"That doesn't stop me from calling you Mr. Rogers," Tony chuckled.

"Why is that funny?" When Tony didn't answer him, Steve shook his head and dumped the bowl of whites into the pan. The egg hissed and turned opaque instantly. "Anyway, Thor did go back to Asgard after the last incident."

"Thought so." Tony picked up his coffee and drained the remainder of the cup. "If only I had a way to check on Jarvis so I could find out why he decided to send a distress signal. Oh yeah, I did, but it broke."

Without looking up from the omelet, Steve told him, "Go get ready while I finish this."

"Really, no comment?"

"Nope."

Tony blew a huff of air through his nose and dropped his mug in the sink, "No cheese in mine, Captain Destructo."

After the dark-haired man wandered off, Steve smirked. He would never tell Tony outright, but he hated the damnable phones. Everyone he knew (with the exception of Thor) was glued to the tiny, glowing rectangles as if they were a life source. He was fairly certain that Tony would get one implanted in his brain if he could. He didn't even understand what they were doing on them for so long. Before he was frozen, phones were for talking, and when people were done talking, they forgot about them.

Steve pulled the bacon out of the pan, laying the strips out on a paper towel to cool. He slid Tony's cheese-less omelet onto a plate and was about to start his own when he heard Tony's shout, "What the hell, Steve?" It sounded more like annoyance than alarm. Tony had to be in his closet.

With a cringe, Steve yelled back, "I was going to set them up, I swear."

"They're still in boxes! All of them!" Tony stomped out of his room with a small, brightly colored cardboard box in hand. There was a phone printed on the side. "The phone, the TV! Why do I keep buying this stuff if you're going to stick all of it in the closet?"

Steve had no idea why Tony kept buying him electronics when he hadn't shown the smallest interest in them. Well, he knew Tony was trying to share that part of his world, but the only place Steve could escape from the assault of loud, overbearing commercials and the never-ending scream of modern culture was his home. He just didn't want to hurt Tony's feelings by saying as much.

Avoidance wasn't Steve's style, but he pointed at the box in Tony's hand and mentioned, "Don't you need a new phone?"

After a pause, Tony tore open the packaging and returned to Steve's room, "We aren't done talking about this." When Tony threatened to revisit a subject, he meant it. Steve wasn't looking forward to the discussion.

By the time they left, Tony had the phone programmed the way he wanted it, but was complaining that it wouldn't network with Jarvis's system because it was store bought. Steve had to bite his tongue to keep from reminding him that he was the one who bought it. Thankfully, Tony did have the common sense to put it away on the drive back to the tower.

They pulled up to find Clint sitting on one of the sidewalls that bordered the landscape. Despite the chill the air had, he was in his preferred sleeveless shirt and a pair of torn up jeans that left Steve wondering if he needed to do laundry. Natasha was on his right with her arms crossed over her chest and her lips drawn up in a pout that was a bit more scowl than usual. On the other side of the plaza, Bruce was standing with his hands jammed in his pockets wearing a far-off expression. Steve could only guess what he was thinking about, but whatever the guess was, he was sure it would be wrong.

While they were walking up, Natasha stalked over to meet them, "We've been waiting for over an hour. Why call for us if you're not even here?"

"I didn't call you, Jarvis did," Tony explained crisply and plugged a cord into the bottom of the new phone. "Steve, will you rip the paneling off the bottom of the keypad?"

Steve did, tossing the thin sheet of metal against the side of the building as he asked, "Am I just a sophisticated can opener to you?"

Tony continued the joke with a straight face, "Can opener, lid twister, and penis with life support, yes." He reached into the wiring beneath the council to connect the phone into the system.

"You're just mad because I won't set up the television."

"Maybe if you don't like my gifts, I can-"

"Ladies, stop making out and tell me why the tower sent out a distress call," Natasha ordered flatly and stepped between them.

It forced Steve to move back to avoid being pressed up against her rear. As always, Natasha was in dress that was too tight for Steve's liking, making her proximity even more uncomfortable. He hoped he didn't leap away since that would be uncouth, but Clint's smirk said he did. Narrowing his eyes at the archer didn't chase off the smug look it made it worse.

"You're the only man I've ever met who's done that," Hawkeye told him.

Tony continued as if the exchange hadn't happened, typing rapidly on the phone's touch screen, "I can't tell you why he did it yet, but we're about to find out. You have to realize that Jarvis is artificial intelligence designed to learn, so if he thought contacting everyone was the best course of action, then it has to be important."

A line of text appeared on the screen that made Tony pale. Steve could count on one hand how many times he'd seen that expression on his boyfriend's face and any reason that put it there was a very bad one. He came around on the other side of Tony, looking over his shoulder to read the message. Most of it was gibberish to him, but the pair of words that stuck out to him was "not responding".

"Not responding? Is Jarvis not responding? What's that mean?"

Tony composed himself quickly and dismissed the text with a flick of his finger, "It means that short of plugging into his server, I've exhausted my options with Jarvis out here. He didn't shut down on his own, or I would be able to reboot him. We'll have to find a way into the tower."

Clint scrubbed his hand over what looked like a recent buzz cut and peered off towards the garage, "If we pried open the elevator doors, Natasha or I could climb-" At Natasha's steely glare, he revised, "Since Tasha's in heels, I'll climb the shaft into the lobby and let you guys in. Shouldn't take me more than five minutes."

"Or you could just fool the keypad into thinking the phone is Jarvis by mimicking his program language."

Everyone looked at Banner blankly, except Tony. Tony was already typing and muttering, "Of course, why didn't I think of that?"

Bruce shrugged, "You were busy," and glanced at Steve. Steve couldn't stop his flush.

Within seconds, the interior locks clicked open and they were walking briskly through the lobby. Visually, there didn't seem to be anything wrong. Everything was still in place. Steve didn't like it. The instinct born of war roared that there was something lurking under the pristine surface and his instincts were rarely wrong.

While they waited for the elevator to get to the bottom floor, Steve turned to the others, "Clint, I want you to clear the first ten floors, look for any sign that someone broke in or out. Do you have a weapon?"

Clint grunted and went for the nearest hallway, "Is the pope Catholic?"

"Natasha-"

The redhead cut him off, "I'll take the next ten, leaving Banner the r and d levels since he knows what inventory should look like."

"Right. Tony will check on Jarvis and I'll clear the penthouse floors and Tony's workshop," Steve finished, glancing at Bruce and Tony to see their acknowledgement.

The doctor nodded. Tony was too busy fiddling with his phone to respond. Steve knew he would head straight for the server room anyway, so he didn't bother him about it. He nearly told them to keep in contact, but realized it would be like telling a seasoned doctor how to use a scalpel. It was a useless gesture.

The team scattered on various levels, leaving Tony and Steve alone in the elevator. Steve noticed how anxious Tony was while they ascended to the top of the tower. He knew it was Jarvis's uncertain status making him that way. Everyone talked to Jarvis, asked him things, but Tony almost seemed to think of him as a friend.

He was a computer, a concept that would never get past a mind like Tony's, but he was also the one who was up with Tony at all hours, who'd been there through every crisis. He also ran Tony's Iron Man suit, so if there was something seriously wrong, Tony would have a major disadvantage in battle. Steve didn't know exactly what Jarvis did for the suits, but he was pretty sure it had something to do with the weapons and flight systems. Without either, Iron Man wouldn't be doing much fighting.

"I'm sure he just got unplugged," Steve said, half-joking, half-serious.

Tony gave him a tight smile for his effort, "I doubt it."

The mirrored doors slid open on the penthouse entryway and Steve suddenly understood why his instincts were going insane. The room was in chaos. Part of the white leather couch was on its side across the tile, the cushion guts spread all over the room with a dusting of glass. Steve's lips parted with a shallow exhale as he examined the damage.

All of the floor to ceiling windows were fractured, but not broken. The glass on the floor seemed to originate from the bar. Every bottle of liquor in Tony's extensive bar was either gone or shattered. The smell of alcohol hung heavily in the room, lingering with the faint scent of smoke and gunpowder. Spray painted on the wall directly across from the elevator were the words, "Without Iron The Man Will Bleed."

Tony took off, his tennis shoes sliding in the drywall powder on the floor.

"Tony, wait!" Heart hammering in his ears, Steve ran after Tony.

The penthouse wasn't clear. If there was anyone left, anyone waiting for them, Tony would be playing right into their hands. They darted past the movie room and Tony's sparse office, feet pounding over bits of broken furniture and shards of ceramic and glass. Steve used his longer stride to close the distance between them. He managed to catch the smaller man before they reached the workshop, snagging Tony's arm just above the elbow.

Tony whipped around into him and shoved at his chest, "Let go!" His dark brown eyes were wide, panicked.

Steve grabbed his other arm, "Stop! Think for a minute. They want you to go for your suits. Why else would they put on such a show?"

Clarity returned to Tony's face with a flash of shame, "You're right." He stopped fighting, but remained tense in Steve's hold. "You're right," he repeated.

When he was certain Tony wasn't going to bolt again, Steve let him go. He moved both hands to Tony's face and rubbed his thumb over the day-old stubble along his jaw, "I'll go first, alright? I just need a minute to get my shield."

"Okay," Tony acquiesced miserably, looking through the workshop windows.

"Good, don't move."

Steve was thankful to find his room intact. He didn't keep much there except his uniform since he was always in Tony's suite, but it gave him hope that his gear hadn't been disturbed. The security device on the storage room wasn't responding, so Steve pried the gate open. His spangled outfit and shield were exactly where they should be. He grabbed the light disk of metal, slotting it over his arm as he jogged back to the workshop.

Tony hadn't moved inside his machine shop, but he was going over the seams in the door with his fingertips, "I don't think it's rigged, there aren't any lines on this side." His tone was level and all business, the way it should be. He'd gotten his head on straight. "But if they went through here, they would've had to bust the lock so they could've sealed it from the inside."

Steve nodded and adjusted his hand on the shield's leather grip, saying, "Get back."

When Tony was out of the way, Steve kicked the door as close to the lock as he could. It slammed inward with a loud snap. He paused, listening for any strange sounds, and then cautiously moved forward. The workshop was as much of a mess as the rest of the penthouse. Tools were scattered around the room and a few of the tables were turned up on their sides or completely upside-down. The black and red muscle car that was Tony's most recent project had dents and scratches on every conceivable surface and had been pushed off to the side with its trunk now facing the door.

Steve walked slowly, his shield held up and his gaze scouring the area for potential threats. As he came around the corner that blocked Tony's MARK suits from view, his heart dropped somewhere into his lower intestines. Every single bay was empty. The suits were gone, even the ones that were too badly damaged to use anymore. Tony was going to have a meltdown.

Something tugged at his shirt and, for a moment, Steve thought Tony had followed him in. Turning to gripe at the man, he found one of the robot arms pulling on him. It had somehow managed to survive the destruction of the shop in one piece. Steve's brow furrowed as the robot put itself in reverse and gave his shirt a hard yank. The fabric tore and the thing trundled backwards into the wall.

Before he could figured out what it wanted, the muscle car exploded. The shockwave hit his shield like Thor's hammer, throwing him off his feet and onto his back hard enough to force the air from his lungs. The vibranium disk rang with the strike. White filled Steve's vision and pain raked him with super-heated claws. For a few seconds after the blast, the only sound he heard was a long, high-pitched tone that he knew was from eardrum damage. He coughed and blinked up at the ceiling, not sure what had happened. He didn't think he'd set off a tripwire.

Tony's worried face blocked the ceiling from view. There was two of him, both of them talking but neither one audible. Steve rubbed at his right ear and shouted, "I'm okay."

Slowly, the obnoxious squeal overtaking his hearing started to fade. Steve shook his head and sat up. The shield slid off his arm as he released his grip, clattering to the floor. When he looked at Tony again, the man had thankfully merged into one human being.

Tony was crouched next to Steve in the burnt remains of car scrap, his expression still twisted with grief and concern, "Are you sure? I can get Bruce up here to check-"

Steve wrapped his hand around the back of Tony's neck and dragged him close enough that their foreheads touched, "I'm a little banged up, but I'm fine. I'm just glad it wasn't you."

He was more than a little banged up, he was aching everywhere. As far as he could tell, nothing was broken and the scorch marks on his skin were not as bad as they looked. If he hadn't gone to get his shield, he would've been worse.

Keeping his hold on Tony's neck, Steve broke the news, "The Iron Man suits are gone."

Surprisingly, Tony lowered his eyes and said, "Yeah, I figured."

The younger man got up, offering Steve a hand that he gratefully accepted. They picked their way over to the empty bays. While Tony looked things over, Steve glanced around for the valiant little robot. Butterfingers was crumpled up near where Steve had fallen. Its wheels were rotating slowly, an occasional spark jumping out of the arm mechanism. Steve hoped Tony could fix him.

"They were supposed to retract into the wall safes if there was a security breach," Tony grumbled. "Whoever did this had to have completely hacked Jarvis to keep those kinds of functions from kicking in."

"I've got to admit, I thought you'd be freaking out a little more," Steve told his boyfriend as he watched him pick up a screwdriver and set it on a toolbox.

"Oh, I'm pissed." Tony turned, his eyes alight with fury, "And when I get Jarvis running, I'm going to take back what's mine with the new generation of MARK. Nobody takes my stuff."

"Sounds good. Let's go see what's going on with Jarvis."

Steve scooped up his shield and led the way out of the workshop, Tony practically in his shadow. They encountered Natasha in the hall. Her gun came up automatically, as did Steve's shield. When recognition hit, they lowered them almost simultaneously.

"I heard an explosion," Natasha stated as flatly as if she heard the microwave beep instead.

"Someone rigged Tony's shop with a car bomb…" Steve trailed off when Tony pushed past them and continued down the hall. The only explanation Steve had was, "They took his suits."

One of the Russian's thin eyebrows arched, "The Iron Man suit is in enemy hands? We're going to have to call in Fury on this."

"Yeah, I know," Steve sighed and went after Tony.

The tower's computer core was on the floor below them in a secure room. Steve didn't expect it was secure anymore, nothing else in the skyscraper seemed to be. Taking the stairs two at a time, Steve got to the next landing and caught the smell of smoke again. It was stronger here than it was on the upper levels. There was something else under the smoke, a pungent aroma that Steve didn't recognize.

The deeper Steve went into the tower, the more powerful the smell became, until he was certain something was on fire very recently. He entered the hall with the tower's brain and the carpet squished underfoot. The walls were stained, still damp from the fire sprinklers. Steve could see smears of soot on the ceiling all leading in one direction.

The source was the server room. Tony stood stock-still in the doorway, staring at the blackened ruin of his computers. Water pooled in the melted components and gathered in puddles on the floor. Steve decided that the other odor was burned plastic. The material was something he was becoming familiar with, but he'd never been around when it was set on fire.

Steve stepped up beside Tony silently, knowing nothing he could say would make this any better. Stark had lost his suits and the ability to make them in the same day, as well as his home and friend. There were no words. Steve grabbed Tony's hand and squeezed.

"The bomb…"

Being as they'd encountered a few bombs over the last few days, Steve asked, "What bomb?"

Tony's face was void of emotion, almost dead. Steve wanted to take him back to his apartment and curl up with him until this went away, but it wouldn't solve anything. "The bomb on the train, it was a lure to get us out of the tower."

"But how could they possibly know we would take the train?"

"They didn't."

Understanding flashed through Steve with a hot swell of rage. They weren't supposed to be there, they were supposed to respond to the crisis call after the second bomb had already gone off. With half of the New York Fire and Police Departments under a mound of rubble, they would've had to help and the rescue effort would've taken hours. All so that they could eliminate Tony Stark.

Steve had never craved homicide before, but the realization that someone had painted a target on his lover's head made him want to wage war on a whole new level. He wanted to hunt the perpetrators down and ensure that none of them ever saw the light of day, even if it meant burying them alive. It wouldn't be like Bucky, Steve wouldn't let that happen again. Not again.

The fluorescent lighting outside the server room flickered and flared. There was only one thing that ever caused a power surge like that: Thor. Steve gave Tony's hand a tug and went to greet the Asgardian. The billionaire went with him, his fingers still locked in Steve's.

From what Steve could figure, Tony was in shock. It hadn't all sunk in yet, but when it did, the man was going to have his breakdown. It was probably bad that he was expecting one, but when a person's world was changed drastically as Tony's just was, it was never easy to handle. Steve had firsthand experience what with losing seventy years of his life to a block of ice. He had the calm moment like Tony was having now, and then freaked out once he was alone. He just didn't want Tony to be alone when it finally came.

Clint and Natasha were in the entryway talking, but Bruce hadn't come up from the lower floors yet. Steve had been to the research and development levels a few times, so he was aware of how long a real inventory would take. Between Bruce's work and Tony's meddling, there were enough ongoing experiments to keep a staff of one-hundred brilliant minds busy for thirty years.

Thor lifted his hammer in greeting as he came in from outside, "I have received your call for aid; tell me what troubles Earth this time."

"Weren't you in Asgard?" Clint asked, breaking away from his conversation with Natasha. "How do you get cell service in other dimensions when I can't get a call outside the tri-state area?"

The demi-god visually scanned Clint, his brow dipping in confusion as he took in the archer's tattered jeans, "What has happened to your garb? Have I missed the fight?

Steve was still wondering that himself, but before Clint could answer, a meek young woman stuck her head in from the balcony. She was smaller than Natasha, thin and plain, but pretty. Wearing an oversized sweater and biting her lip as if she wasn't sure if she was allowed, she had the innocent quality of a child. Thor reached back for her and she tucked her hair behind her ear and slid up beside him. Her smile was shy.

"My friends, this is-"

"Jane Foster, astrophysicist," Tony filled in. Ever territorial, he immediately added, "What's she doing here?"

Tony was usually a little more gracious than that, especially around women, but the day hadn't done much for his mood. Trying to smooth things over, Steve offered his hand, "Sorry, it's been rough around here the last couple of hours. Steve Rogers."

The tiny woman barely placed her fingers against his palm, the shy smile returning, "It's nice to meet you, Steve."

"The pleasure is mine, ma'am."

Behind him, Tony groused, "No, we're not sorry. What is she doing here? You got a crisis call and decided to bring along your girlfriend?"

Thor set Mjölnir on one of the barstools, the spindly piece of furniture groaning under the weight of the weapon. "I can understand your confusion, but I was showing Jane my home world and-"

"It was a crisis call! We don't have time to sit around exchanging pleasantries with your squeeze," Tony shouted and gestured at the destruction surrounding him. "They took everything!"

Steve was expecting Tony to have a meltdown, just not like this. Without his suit, Thor could flick him across the room. Beside Steve, Jane clutched at the neck of her sweater, her other arm crossed beneath her elbow. She was chewing her lip again, leaving Steve thinking it was a nervous habit.

"I swear he's not usually like this," Steve explained, worried that Tony was going to talk himself off a cliff.

Jane put her thumbnail between her teeth and said, "I've heard a lot about him, but he's not really the one I'm worried about."

Thor's face clouded with anger at Tony's attack, "You are upset and know not what you are saying. I could not leave Jane alone in Asgard not knowing how long I would be required here."

"Then you should've dropped her off at the bus station, Romeo. She doesn't belong here."

"I do not understand your double standard. Why was your Pepper Potts allowed when Jane is not?"

"Excuse me," Steve left to separate Thor and Tony before someone (namely Tony) got hurt.

Tony had just opened his mouth to throw some ugly retort at Thor when Steve tossed him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Feeling as though he was putting his boyfriend in timeout, Steve flipped the couch upright with his foot and set Tony down on the only remaining cushion. As Steve expected, Tony was livid. The smaller man's nostrils flared and his lips thinned to a pale line when Steve knelt in front of him.

"Don't take this out on us, we're your allies," Steve told him gently, touching Tony's knee. "We're going to help you track down the suits."

"What does that have to do with him bringing-"

"It has everything to do with it. You're angry, that's fine I am too, but stop attacking the wrong people."

Tony surged to his feet, growling, "You don't have a clue," and Steve pushed him back down onto the couch. Tony's lip curled, "Move, Rogers."

"Not until you've calmed down."

A sharp whistle drew everyone's attention to the elevators. Natasha lowered her fingers from her lips and said, "Banner has something to tell us."

Bruce had joined them at some point during the argument, though Steve couldn't say when. He was standing between Clint and Natasha, wringing his hands. Whatever he'd found in the r and d levels seemed like more bad news. As he wet his lips to talk, the doctor pushed his glasses on top of his head and looked directly at Steve, "There's something missing downstairs, a… a serum of sorts I've been working on."

Steve stood up, already dreading the rest of Bruce's words.

"I was trying to stabilize the- uh, the other guy using a mixture of my own making and… and some of your blood," Bruce admitted, leaving the room in shocked silence. "All of my samples are gone."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Author's Note: I'm so sorry Jarvis, what have I done to you? Does that count as character death? I already miss him and I know Tony does.

Also, I like Jane… sue me.

To be continued!


	6. The Powder Keg Syndrome

Dance, dance, dance! I finished a chapter in only four days! It's not quite a record for me, but having worked the last three days, it should be.

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Tony felt like throwing up. If he wandered away to do so, someone was bound to notice and he couldn't take another minute of the others coddling him because someone walked in and stole his super identity. His brilliance made Iron Man, Iron Man did not make him. Even without the suit, Tony was more intelligent than ninety-nine percent of the world's population.

Despite all that, his mind kept going back to the moment he'd had with Steve shortly after they'd met, when the bigger man told him he didn't know what it meant to be a real hero. Without his suit, he was a sideline act, a lab technician, a cheerleader. There was no way he could go into battle the way he was.

He was well trained, sure, but not like the super-spy wonder twins. SHIELD would never give him another mission without his suit, and there was a snowball's chance in hell that Steve would let him anywhere near conflict if he was vulnerable. As fond as he was of the Captain, the man was a little over protective.

At the moment, Steve was occupied arguing with Bruce about the experiment no one knew existed. Tony could tell Steve was trying to keep a level head about it since it was Bruce he was arguing with, but his anger was overflowing.

Tony didn't want to be involved. He wanted to be downstairs in the server room, picking up the pieces of Jarvis so he could rebuild. The missing serum was important, though, maybe even more important than tracking down his suits. No one could use a MARK suit without authorization and an arc reactor.

"You told me you were going to use that blood to determine what my immunities are. Why would you lie to me about that?" Steve was a decibel below a shout, pacing the room like an animal.

"I didn't lie, I had some leftover after I was done testing," Bruce's elucidation wasn't easing Steve any.

The blonde turned on his heel mid-stride, "So you decided to use it without consulting me?"

"All of my work is based off what they did to you. There are attributes in your blood that can't be repl-"

"I'm just going to stop everybody there," Clint butted in. "You're talking about stuff that's beyond classified and she," he pointed over at Jane, who blinked owlishly, "has no clearance, so maybe we should take a breath and relax for a minute."

Tony pushed his hands into his hair and scratched his scalp roughly. This argument was pointless. What mattered was that the serum was in enemy hands and they needed to know what it could do before they were hit with it. Getting to his feet, Tony reminded them, "The girl just got back from Asgard, so I think her clearance level is irrelevant. But if it would make everybody feel better, why don't you take her outside for a few minutes, Thor?"

The blonde demi-god glared at him, but gently took Jane's arm and led her onto the balcony. The pair stood within view of the windows, talking quietly. Her thin eyebrows drew up in distress as she spoke and Thor shook his head and brushed his hand across her back. Tony could tell she was asking if she should go.

With Clint's concerns out of the way, Tony went to Bruce, "What's it do?"

Bruce held out his hands palm up, "I told you, it's meant to stabal-"

"You know what I mean, Bruce. What's its potential? Have you done any testing?"

Clearly frazzled, the doctor rubbed the corners of his eyes with his thumb and index fingers. He walked away a few paces, bracing his knuckles against his hip, "The initial tests were promising. At the right dosage, it could create a blend of my… monstrosity and the Captain's unique physical prowess, but it destroys tissue as easily as it fuses with it."

"It could be used to make more people like us?" Steve's tone was dangerous and his unoccupied hand tightened into a fist. Tony could hear the other grip the handle of his shield until the leather creaked.

"It wasn't ready for that. And that wasn't my goal, it wasn't for anyone else."

Steve straightened up to his impressive height, towering over the doctor, "But you didn't bother to consider what kind of consequences it would have, did you?"

Tony could feel it building, the powder keg effect. It happened to their team too often. They got along better than they used to, but their opinions were so different and no one currently residing in the tower ever backed down from a fight. The tension was wrapping around them and Tony was the one who'd created it this time.

The edges of Bruce's irises brightened, making Natasha take a step away and Clint to trail his fingers down to the knife in his boot. Tony put a hand on Steve's chest and applied enough pressure that the super soldier broke off from the argument. Steve went to the bar and dropped his shield on the counter, bracing both hands against the marble surface with his back to them.

"Yes, Bruce did bad and Steve is pissed, let's get back to how far your serum is from application," Tony said, looking between them.

Bruce visibly calmed, and the rest of the room followed suit, "If they had someone of our caliber working with my notes, they could get a working prototype for human testing in a year, maybe. Unless…"

"Unless?" Tony urged.

"Unless they didn't care what their death ratio was for test subjects, in which case they would have a five percent success rate with the formula I already have."

One in twenty. The statistic alarmed Tony. If someone had a supply of people to inject, there could be a lot of green rage monsters running around in a short period of time. "But there's no way to tell how stable the transformation would be. That five percent could be genetically unsound and end up dying anyway, right?"

"There's that chance. I don't know, I haven't even moved past testing on single cells."

The sound of an approaching helicopter made Tony look towards the bay windows. It had been sitting at the edge of his attention, but he'd assumed it was passing by. It was now loud enough to be hovering above his tower.

"Fury," he said. Tony wasn't surprised someone had called him in, the situation was beyond critical. It didn't make him happy either. The longer SHIELD was in the dark about his missing suits, the less crap he'd have to shovel through to go get them back.

A few moments after the chop of the rotor faded, the elevator dinged and Director Fury cast his scowl around the room. Tony didn't bother to suppress his groan. He turned it into a joke without a second thought, "I told you guys not to invite him, he's a party killer."

Fury set his good eye on Tony as he and his dark-haired shadow, Maria, got off the elevator, "Seems to me that your party is already over, Stark."

Maria immediately surveyed the wreckage and the spray paint with disapproval. She kept her arms folded behind her back, stepping over the debris without ever looking down. In another life, Tony would already be hitting on her. The woman was so crisp and professional in her uniform that she looked like she ate guys for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Power bitch, some of the guys on his board of directors liked to say. Tony used to laugh at that joke, until he found out how dangerous a real power bitch could be. Natasha was the first one who made him want to bite back remarks like that.

"Report," Fury barked after reading the threat scrawled across Tony's wall. "What's this mean?"

Like the good little spy that he was, Clint rattled off the events of the last few days to his boss. Steve filled in a lot of the blanks and Fury's expression darkened with each piece of information he was given. Since the man was always scowling, it wasn't an improvement. When they got to the bit about Bruce's experiments, the director's eyebrows went up and Bruce slipped away muttering that he needed to check the rest of the labs.

"Since the tower's security has been compromised, I want everything with a classification of level three or above moved out," the director told Maria.

"Sir," the woman responded and was gone before Tony could even open his mouth.

"Hey!" Tony went halfway to the elevator, but it closed and Maria disappeared. He turned his anger on Fury, "You can't just clear out my tower. Everything here is mine, it belongs to me. You do understand the concept of personal property?"

If Fury was troubled by Tony's outburst, he didn't show it. Completely ignoring his question, the director asked, "How long before you can get your network back online?"

"Jarvis is not a network, he's an extremely sophisticated AI that can run anything from a house to a plane. It took me ten years to get him where he was."

"We don't have ten years. If you can't get him off the ground in forty-eight hours and get your assembly line cranking on a new suit, you're sitting on the bench."

Tony threw his hands in the air, "I knew it! They stole my stuff, you can't keep me out of this." There was a whisper of touch on his shoulders that could only be Steve. The taller man massaged him gently, silently trying to calm him. Tony didn't want to be calm. He wanted to find whoever violated his home and be the one to knock them on their ass. It was his pride talking when he growled, "I'll have it done in thirty-six and I'll have these guys lying dead at your feet by forty-eight."

Fury considered him with his one dark eye and then nodded, "We'll keep the tower secure for now. Cap, make sure he stays on track. No distractions."

"Yes, sir."

"Good. We'll be setting up a base of operations on a few of your lower floors to start our search for the culprits," Fury said, his long black coat swirling around him as he turned away.

That was the last thing Tony wanted to hear. If he was going to get everything done, he didn't need Fury standing over his shoulder the entire time. "What, did you forget where you parked your invisible aircraft carrier?" Tony shouted after him.

"Get to work, Stark. You have big promises to fulfill," came Fury's quick retort. As he passed the spies, he ordered, "You two, with me."

Once they were gone, Tony rubbed his face and fell back against Steve's chest. He was already tired and he hadn't even started yet. There would be miles of corrupted and incomplete code to repair, assuming there was anything to salvage at all. Steve's arms winding around his waist made him feel a little better, but only enough that he remembered yelling at him. Guilt swallowed his warmth.

Tony fumbled for something to say that wasn't too embarrassing. He didn't like apologizing, since he had to admit he was wrong to make it worthwhile. "It's probably best that you got me away from Shakespeare before I said something too unfortunate. I was little worked up," he said, brushing his fingers over the strong muscles of Steve's forearm. It wasn't in him to say how much of a jerk he was for taking it out on Steve. The words sat in his mouth, turning bitter.

Steve's chuckle resounded through Tony's spine and slowly spread through the rest of him as a pleasant tingle, "I can only imagine why. Don't worry, I can give you some slack, just don't go picking fights with anyone else." There was forgiveness in Steve's tone, forgiveness for something Tony couldn't even admit.

"Square deal," Tony said, leaving everything else in limbo. Maybe he'd return to it one day, but there was so much to do first.

"Do you really think you can fix Jarvis in that amount of time?" Steve asked into the crook of his neck, his breath tickling Tony's skin.

Tony sighed, "Not unless I find a way to clone myself."

A soft, meek voice behind them mentioned, "I built all the equipment in my lab in New Mexico, maybe I could help."

Steve stepped away as Tony turned, but kept his hand on Tony's hip. Oddly, the young astrophysicist was alone. Tony couldn't say where Thor might've gone since no one had a very good grasp of how his mind worked. His best guess was that the Asgardian went downstairs to meet with the director… or he was off rescuing kittens, Tony really didn't have any idea.

Tony had learned a little about Jane Foster in the SHIELD file on Thor, but she was a blip in a sea of information about Asgard and Einstein-Rosen bridges between worlds. Most of his knowledge about her came from her published work. Her theories on Lorentzian traversable wormholes caught his interest a few years before their Norse god crash-landed in the desert. She'd still been a grad student when her first article was published, which was part of why Tony had bothered to read it.

He considered her offer carefully, deciding to put her through her paces before he let her anywhere near Jarvis's remains, "What kind of processing power were you able to get out of your hardware?"

"Keep in mind that I can't get great parts out where I work, but most of my data needed at least four hundred teraflops for analysis. My machines could handle up to five hundred," Jane answered easily. As if in defense of her machines, she added, "I don't get a lot of funding."

"Do you write your own code?"

Jane grinned and let out a snort of laughter that she quickly covered with her long sweater sleeve. Her cheeks reddened as she muttered, "Sorry. Um, yes, I wrote the programs for all of my machines. There really wasn't any existing programming that would take the parameters of my calculations and apply them to the raw data we were retrieving. I reworked some code from the Hubble telescope and… I'm rambling, sorry again."

Tony was impressed. Steve looked lost, which was not surprising. When Tony glanced at him, Steve shrugged and said, "I'm just here to lift the heavy stuff and keep you from getting waylaid by other projects. Don't ask me if I understood any of that."

"I know, I know, you prefer touch screens and books with pictures," Tony joked with a fond smile.

"Hey now…"

Tony took Jane's arm in his and led her towards the stairs, "Why are we attracted to dumb blondes, do you think? Is it because we're so bright we need a break every now and again, or because they have such great abs?"

Steve thumped his ear with one finger, barely hard enough to sting. Tony rubbed the offended piece of flesh against his shoulder and shot a glare at the Captain. All he got in return was a wry smirk.

Jane's lips puckered in her attempt to keep a straight face, "It's the abs, no doubt."

Tony insisted that they move their work out of the damp lower level so he wouldn't grow mold before they finished. It took trips down to the old server room as well as Tony's tech lockers, but within a half an hour, they had everything they could need spread out in Tony's media room. It seemed to be one of the few spaces that missed the assault.

The new parts they stacked in front of the floor to ceiling television, nearly hiding it from view. Steve pushed the seating against the opposite wall so they could lay out Jarvis's parts. The black hunks of metal and melted plastic covered the floor like coagulated spots of blood. Tony looked over it with an overbearing sense of loss. Jarvis was one of his finest works and he only hoped he could replicate him properly.

When they were ready to start the rebuild, Steve pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of Tony's mouth and said, "I'm going to check in with Fury."

"Tell him I don't need a babysitter, you could be doing better things with your time."

Steve nodded, his blue gaze glinting as he tossed out, "But Fury and I both know how you are, so I'm sure I'll be back."

Tony watched the man's ass as he walked away, shaking his head slightly, "It might be more than the abs."

Jane started construction on the new hardware by unpacking a server cabinet from its box, and Tony set his sights on recovering whatever he could from the melted machines. What he really wanted was the tower's video footage from the previous afternoon. As long as the internal magnetic discs weren't too warped, he could read the data into the laptop he'd dredged out of storage.

After gathering the motherboards and processors together, Jane paused to twist her mousy hair into a bun and take off her gigantic, knit sweater. She adjusted her camisole before touching the brushed steel coffee table to ground herself. Rid of the static electricity that could destroy the delicate equipment, Jane sat cross-legged in front of her work. She opened the plastic for the first processor and said, "May I ask you something?"

Tony carefully continued to strip the blackened components away from the memory disc, "Yes, my hair is natural. No, you may not touch it."

For a second, Jane didn't even breathe as she lowered the chip into place on the motherboard. When she secured the housing over it, she responded, "How did you and Steve get together? I mean, no offense, but the celebrity magazines all paint you as a hopeless philanderer."

Tony arched one eyebrow at the word 'hopeless'. The philanderer bit was impossible to argue, but he never would've considered himself hopeless. "You read that garbage? You're losing points Ms. Foster." Hooking a portable reader into the laptop, Tony finally admitted, "I wasn't exactly planning on being anything else. The playboy thing worked and people didn't expect me to be much more than that."

"So, that definitely doesn't answer my question." She pulled a face, her nose wrinkling as she said, "And it's not all garbage."

"I don't really do the 'social bonding over boyfriends' thing."

"Oh, come on," she goaded. "I'll tell you how I met Thor."

There was inherent curiosity surrounding Thor's relationship, but Tony wasn't sure if he was inquisitive enough to trade the intimate details of his own life to find out.

Tony got the disc rotating in the reader. He adjusted the feedback levels and watched the left-hand window for any signs of his data. He turned up the rpm and got smug satisfaction when file folders popped up like weeds. As expected, some were clearly corrupted. There was more than enough left to sort through.

He blamed his success with the memory retrieval for his honesty, it put him in a better mood, "Steve is so far from anything I've ever had that he fills needs I never realized were there." At her questioning look, Tony added, "I guess that still doesn't answer your question… He came to me, there was wild sex, and we've been fairly inseparable ever since."

Tony was too busy paging through the files to see her expression, but he could guess that his bluntness mortified her. She seemed like the type to blush at the smallest mentioning of intercourse. Under the file heading for security, Tony found the surveillance video he was looking for. A large media player opened on the laptop screen, showing the entryway to his penthouse. The image was pixilated in the bottom corner and had some static noise, but it was still viable. He was fast-forwarding through the day when she spoke again.

"What about your secretary? You two had a thing, didn't you?"

Tony closed his eyes for a second. Things didn't end badly with Pepper, but he didn't like thinking about it. No one had ever broken up with him before Pepper. He wasn't sure how he'd made it through life without being on the wrong end of breakup at least once, but she'd been his first. "More nuggets of truth from your celebrity rags?" He tracked through the moment where he and Steve left to get lunch, watching the way he moved around the other man. It was strange observing it from the outside. He could see what Pepper had seen.

"It wasn't just the magazines that said so, I mean, you made her CEO of your company," Jane mentioned and grabbed a box of RAM to install.

Tony paused the video feed where Steve was smiling down at him and his face had a glow he would've sworn he couldn't get. "We were living together," Tony said and glanced up from the grainy image, "Pepper and I, but one day I found this binder with all the stuff she used to remember for me, like my social security number and the numbers of my safety deposit boxes, and I realized she was leaving."

"Did she say why?"

"You are all about the questions…"

"Why'd she leave?"

With a sigh, Tony moved the video forward and continued to watch the empty entryway. "She said I was in love with someone else and there was no room for her."

Pepper's face had been so serene when she'd said it, as though she'd been battling with the idea for weeks, or even months, and had come to terms with the fact. Tony was certain now that it was her lack of reaction that upset him the most. Pepper was an emotional person, so for her to be calm when she was breaking ties meant that she'd been too hurt to bring it up when she'd made the discovery. At the time, Tony didn't understand what she was talking about, but now he knew. He could see it.

They worked in silence for several minutes. Tony opened up the feed from the cameras in the freight elevator and his workshop, calibrating them to match the time codes on the entryway.

"I hit him with my van."

Tony's head snapped up, "What?"

Jane bit her bottom lip with a shameful smile, "I hit Thor with my car and had to take him to the hospital. There might have been a taser in there somewhere, but that was my assistant, I had nothing to do with it."

"You had to take him to the hospital? What kind of van do you drive, a tank?" Thor could take a hit from the Hulk and the big green monster could rip apart tanks as if they were toys. Tony could hardly believe what she was telling him.

"Well, he was mortal at the time, so it didn't take much."

"Still, a taser?" Tony laughed, going back to his footage. "I'm going to have to bring that up later."

"No, please don't! I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate…"

Tony didn't hear another word. At around two-oh-five on the surveillance tape, barely twenty minutes after he and Steve walked out the door, a woman stepped off the elevator. There were five men in the freight elevator, one with a duffle bag that probably held the components to rig his car. They were the muscle; it was the painfully familiar redhead he focused on. The images were too compromised to see her well, but Tony didn't have a doubt. Every curve was covered in tight, black leather, the belt with the intersecting red triangles buckled at her waist like always. Still a room away from the camera, the spy stopped and put a bullet into it. The rest of Tony's footage was static.

Long after the feed was gone, Tony stared at his laptop. In the other windows, he could see the goons going after his suits and trashing his workshop in the process. When his brain jump-started, anger settled in his guts like hot coals. He shipped all of the footage to Fury and sprang to his feet, ignoring Jane as she asked where he was going.

Tony slapped the call button for the elevator. After just a few seconds, he lost his patience and sprinted to the stairs. He pounded down the never-ending staircase so quickly that he was dizzy by the time he got to SHIELD's makeshift base. One of the guards at the door held up a hand, saying, "Mr. Stark, you need to-"

Tony ducked under his arm and slammed through the door, shouting, "Romanov!"

The room went silent at his entrance. SHIELD's teams had set up their traveling show very quickly, Tony noted. They'd even brought their own tables. They were arranged in rows, computers clustered three to a table with an agent at each one. All of the windows had been covered with thick cloth and there were bundled power cords snaking across the floor in enough places to be truly hazardous.

Director Fury was standing beside a projection with the rest of the team, going over what looked like a bird's eye image of the tower. There were notes on the image by the service garage where deliveries were made, probably the route they'd taken to get inside. Tony had everyone's undivided attention, but the Russian spy was the only one he could see in his tunneled rage. She had that confused look that was as easy for her to fake as every other human emotion. Tony wondered if she actually felt anything or if it was all an act.

"Who the hell are you really working for? I mean, you say it's SHIELD when it's convenient, you say it's me, you say it's Mother Fucking Russia, but who is it really? Or are you so deep in this quadruple spy shit that you don't even remember?" Tony was aware that he was yelling loud enough for the neighboring boroughs to hear him, but he didn't care.

"Stark, I don't-" Natasha started.

"Where are my fucking suits?"

The shock wore off the room and suddenly everything leapt into motion. Steve came over to get him away from Natasha, grabbing his biceps to push him back. Clint stepped up to fend Tony off even though Natasha was still standing there with bewilderment written across her features. His threat merged with Thor's questions and Fury's shouts that they needed to calm down. Banner backed away from the chaos as his gaze flicked around for an escape route.

Tony fought against Steve's hold hard enough that Steve had to tighten his grip. When he couldn't get free, he kept shouting over the bigger man's shoulder, "Did you just want to bring me low or is somebody paying you, huh? How much am I worth?"

"Stop, Tony!" Steve pleaded.

Natasha's uncertain stare was only fueling his anger. It bubbled up into every scathing word he threw at her, "Was the car bomb their idea or did you just decide you wanted to add a little more red to your fucking ledger?"

A flash of hurt entered her eyes, covered so quickly by unfeeling calm that Tony's gut said it was real. It was so distracting that he didn't notice Clint's fist headed for his jaw. Pain exploded through his mouth and the sharp metallic taste of blood followed. The Captain's hold kept him from getting knocked to the floor, but it was gone a second later as Steve turned on Hawkeye. The muscles bulged in Steve's arms when he grabbed the front of Clint's shirt and hoisted him off the ground.

Fearless as always, Clint growled, "Put me down before you get hurt, old man."

"You touch him again and I'll-"

A massive bang like a thunderclap cut through the conflict. Thor's hammer was an inch deep in the flooring, the cement crackling as the web of fractures finished forming. Leaving the hammer in place, Thor straightened up and demanded, "If Tony has accusations, let him bring forward proof. I am certain he would not blame lightly."

Blood warmed his chin as it slowly rolled from his lip. Tony wiped it away with the back of his hand and told Fury, "I sent you a file you need to see."

"You had better have a damn good reason for this, Stark," the director warned as he accessed his email.

A few clicks and the footage of the entryway appeared on the projector. It was queued up to where the elevator doors slid open and Natasha walked in to shoot the camera. The other videos of the workshop took over, but no one was really watching them. Every eye had turned to the redhead. Her face was neutral, unrevealing.

Natasha met Fury's gaze first, then Tony's as she said, "That's not me."

"How can you say that with a straight face?" Tony snarled.

Before things could get heated again, Clint asked, "Is that time stamp right?" Steve begrudgingly set him down and Clint tugged the wrinkles out of his shirt. "Are you sure this happened at two?"

"We left at about one forty-five," Steve provided, forgetting about his vendetta with the archer for the moment.

Tony nodded to confirm.

"Then that can't be Tasha, she was with me, sir," Clint told Fury.

The director ran the feed backwards so he could watch the woman step off the elevator again. He froze the image just as she was drawing her arm up to fire. The file was badly corrupted, so the video was fuzzier than a home movie, but the costume and hair were unmistakable. Fury clasped his hands at the small of his back as he examined the screen.

Tony admired the fact that Romanov wasn't even sweating. She stood with her feet shoulder-width apart and her chin tilted up in defiance as she stared at him. It pissed him off that she wasn't showing an ounce of fear, but he had to give her training credit. The woman was a brick wall.

"Are you certain she was in your presence at all times?" Fury asked without turning his good eye away from the screen.

"Yes, sir."

"And you're not covering for her because you two are intimate?"

Even with the accusation in Fury's tone, Clint didn't flinch, "No, sir. We keep our personal lives out of our work. Our mission is logged in the network. Its designation was changed to complete at fifteen hundred hours, sir."

Tony studied the projected image and then Natasha, something chewing at the edge of his awareness. It was like a childhood game of 'spot the differences', but the differences were so subtle that they were almost impossible to discern. It could've been the corrupted data causing the slight shift in hair color and the height of the camera could explain the strange height-to-weight ratio. The only thing Tony couldn't explain away was the size of her breasts. The woman in the video had smaller boobs than Natasha did. They didn't fill out the costume correctly. Him noticing something like that would've made Pepper roll her eyes.

Convinced and a little ashamed, Tony asked, "Who has it out for you bad enough to go to these lengths?"

"Do you want the list in alphabetical order?" Natasha responded dryly, one brow crawling up her forehead.

Tony motioned at the screen, "Do you recognize her?"

Natasha studied the woman. "No," she admitted eventually. The image wasn't good enough to pick out specific features, so Tony was expecting as much.

He didn't get a chance to launch into questioning, Fury took control of the situation, saying, "We can handle things from here. You need to get your ass back upstairs and fix your electric butler."

"He's a-"

"I don't care what he is, get up there and get him back online," Fury's voice warned against argument and Tony regrettably left the group.

Steve followed him out, "I'll walk with you." In the relative privacy of the lobby, Steve came around in front of him so he could get a look at his split lip. "I can't believe he hit you," Steve grumbled as he gingerly wiped at the crusted blood on Tony's chin.

"You would've done the same thing," his words came out in a hiss when Steve's fingertip brushed the tender skin of his lip. He jerked away without meaning to, responding to the sharp burst of pain.

"Sorry," the blonde said sheepishly. "We should get you some ice."

"I've had worse."

"Doesn't mean you don't need ice."

Tony got into the elevator and dropped his head against the wall, smiling when Steve got in after him. It made mouth sting. Tony wanted to tell him that he would need his hands free to work, but knew he'd be wasting his breath. There was no arguing with Steve. His boyfriend would be in his kitchen putting ice in a plastic bag no matter what he said. And people thought Tony had stubbornness issues.

"They need to be consulting Banner about what materials someone would need to mass produce his serum, that's going to be the best way to find them. I can't track the suits without Jarvis." Tony closed his eyes, fighting off a wave of annoyance. He didn't realize how much he relied on his AI until he was trying to work without it. Jarvis was in everything, it wasn't any wonder someone targeted the computer system to take him to his knees. "The only MARK suit without him is-"

Tony sat up as a thought bolted through him.

"You have a suit that doesn't run on Jarvis's system?" Steve asked.

Yanking his phone out of his pocket, Tony dialed Rhodes's number, "Yeah, one of my first. Except it's called War Machine now."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

RHOOOOOOOOOOODEY! I love Rhodes too. Really, I like a lot of characters. Didn't think about War Machine, did you? It's okay, neither did I at first.

Also, I was misspelling SHIELD for the first four chapters and nobody pointed it out. Shame on all of you! I shake my fist at you. Don't go looking for it now, I've already made edits.


	7. All is Fair in Love and War

"It's a sandwich," Steve stated, his irritation mounting.

The guard didn't seem to care. He was a lower-level agent, armed to the teeth and looking every bit the black-ops soldier he probably was before SHIELD recruited him. He sounded bored when he responded, "Fury said nothing goes in or out without inspection."

Steve pulled the red and brown sack away from the guard's reaching hand, holding it over his head since the man was several inches shorter than he was, "If you inspect it, Tony won't eat it. He doesn't like other people to touch his food."

"Captain Rogers, Fury was explicit in his instructions-"

His patience reached the breaking point. He raised his voice enough to make it an order, "Call upstairs and clear the damn sandwich."

It was twenty-seven hours into Tony's allotted forty-eight and the eccentric billionaire hadn't slept, or eaten, as far as Steve could tell. All the attempts he'd made to get Tony to take a break were met with silence or mumbled responses about the state of Jarvis and what Tony had left to finish. Steve had brought food more than once, but always came back to find it untouched. The missing salad at lunch had given him hope, until he realized Jane was the one to eat it. In desperation to find something that would make Tony stop working for ten minutes, Steve had gone all the way to his favorite restaurant to get a meal Tony reserved for 'splurges'. He wasn't going to let the guard ruin his chances of getting some sustenance into his boyfriend before he passed out.

While the agent was talking into his radio, Steve heard a door slam on the street. He glanced over his shoulder to see a military hummer pull away from the curb and a dark-skinned man in a perfectly pressed air force uniform headed for the building. Even in the gathering twilight, Steve immediately noticed the silver eagle on the man's hat and saluted him, "Colonel."

Returning the salute with a slightly creased brow, the colonel said, "At ease…" He drew it out, clearly waiting on Steve to fill in his rank. Steve was in a collared shirt and kakis, which was hardly helpful in identifying him. The dress uniform they'd given him when he'd woken up from the ice was still in his closet, gathering dust with Tony's electronics.

"Captain Steve Rogers, US army, sir. You must be Rhodes, Tony's been expecting you," Steve explained and gave his hand a firm shake.

"Army?" Rhodes echoed as they got waved into the building. Taking off his hat and tucking it under his arm, Tony's friend questioned, "I thought Tony was done with the military, what's he doing with a liaison officer for the army?"

For a second, Steve didn't know what to say. It was obvious enough that Tony never brought up their relationship with Rhodes and Steve didn't feel like it was his place to tell him. Steve's chuckle was awkward in his own ears, "I'm not a liaison. Tony and I… work together."

Rhodes didn't know him from Adam, but the man was sharp. Suspicion hovered in his gaze as he studied Steve. Whatever he suspected, he didn't ask. They passed by the armed guards at the security desk and had to go through a second checkpoint at the elevator. Rhodes told the officer on duty to expect a shipment to the garage. Steve could only assume it was Tony's long lost War Machine.

When the elevator arrived, they got inside the normally polished space. It was covered in fingerprint powder from SHIELD's attempts to identify Natasha's doppelganger, so Steve had to wipe his thumb on his shirt after he'd selected his floor. The black smear on his button-down didn't bother him as much as it would on his kakis.

On the long trek upstairs, Steve decided to sate the curiosity that had been building since he'd found out about the wayward MARK, "So how did you convince him to turn over one of his suits to the government? I know how possessive he is, it couldn't have been easy."

"I take it you don't watch C-Span."

"I don't have a TV, actually… well, I do, it's just not unboxed yet." Steve scratched the side of his head, hoping C-Span was a television show. If it was something else, he just made himself sound like an idiot.

"After Senator Stern failed to get him to release the suit to us, I took it." The statement was plain enough, but Steve detected a hint of pride in it. It faded away when Rhodes added, "Figured out later that Tony let me walk off with it, but the damn bastard still gave me a hell of a fight when he was drunk off his ass."

There was a failsafe in the suits to keep unauthorized people from using them, even Steve knew that much. And without a reactor, it wouldn't go far. If none of those things were an issue, Tony would've had to have been expecting Rhodes to take a suit. No matter what scenario he imagined, Steve couldn't figure out why Tony would do that.

"He just let you take it," Steve said skeptically.

The colonel set his eyes on his polished dress shoes, "Well, the man was dying and wanted somebody to pick up the mantel."

Steve's chest iced over. He slammed down the emergency stop button a few floors from the top. The alarm bell went off and the shoebox-sized space flooded with red light as the elevator stilled. Crowding Rhodes a bit more than he intended, Steve demanded, "What do you mean 'dying'?"

Rhodes wasn't intimidated by Steve. Their chests were nearly touching, but the ex-pilot didn't move away. He lifted his chin and said, "Not surprised you didn't hear about it. I don't think he told anybody that the reactor was killing him. Something about the metal he was using to fuel it, I'm not sure. I'd tell you to ask him, but he'd probably just be pissed that you knew."

Steve backed off, his head swimming in denial. How could he not know? Why would Tony keep something like that from him? He was so wrapped up in the news he barely noticed Rhodes disengage the emergency switch.

Trembling fingers pushed into his hair. They were shaking so badly he was certain they couldn't be his. Steve could handle a physical threat. He could beat the tar out of anything that might endanger Tony's life (though he left Tony's personal defense to him most days since the man wasn't a pushover), but sickness was different. How was he supposed to fight that?

"He's alright now," the colonel told him, as if he knew Steve needed to hear it.

Thinking he had to look like an anxious mess, Steve squared his shoulders and nodded, "Good to know. How did he fix it?" He hoped his voice was level.

"It's Tony, he just built a new reactor. Whether it's broken or not, Tony fixes it," Rhodes said with a shrug and stepped out of the elevator.

The graffiti on the wall made Rhodes pause long enough that Steve got ahead of him. His stomach was still doing queasy acrobatics over his discovery, but he reminded himself that Tony wasn't in any immediate danger. What had happened did so before he'd been revived and there was no reason for him to be worked up about it. By the time he got to the makeshift workroom, he'd managed to push it into the back of his head.

Tony hadn't moved from the position Steve left him in. He was bent over one of the four computers he had set up on the floor around him, typing furiously and occasionally checking one of the other screens. The room was covered in Styrofoam, plastic bags, and boxes from the new equipment. Jane was curled up around a large black cabinet with a screwdriver still in hand, sleeping soundly. Her valiant attempt to keep up with Tony had finally been overtaken by exhaustion. The coffee cups with lipstick stains sitting on every available surface gave credence to her efforts.

"I'm going to need that," Tony muttered, pointing over at the cabinet Jane clutched possessively in her sleep.

He had his back to the door, so Steve was surprised that he was aware of his surroundings enough to hear him come in. Often times when Tony was neck-deep in a project, a bomb could go off outside and he wouldn't notice. Steve had no intention on bringing him the electrical cabinet until he'd seen Tony eat something. Rhodes waited in the doorway while Steve crouched down beside Tony and unpacked the coveted sandwich. He had it laid out on the red-check paper it was wrapped in before Tony recognized the smell.

His tired brown eyes flicked off the lines of code to inspect what Steve brought him, "Is that a Ruben?"

"Yep."

"From Valencia's?"

"Yep," Steve said again with a smile, knowing he'd succeeded.

Tony scooped it up and took a gigantic bite. He closed his eyes and breathed deep through his nose as he chewed, talking only once he'd swallowed most of it, "You didn't have to go so far uptown to get me food."

"I know."

The lines in Tony's face suggested that he was beyond tired. There was slight bruising under his eyes and all of the normal swagger and arrogance was missing. He looked beat down, almost ready to collapse. If the idea wouldn't get shot out of the air like an enemy in Tony's cross-hairs, Steve would suggest he get some sleep. He tossed around the notion of carrying Tony to the nearest bed and holding him down until he succumbed, but that would get him punched and possibly the silent treatment for a few weeks. He tried to be satisfied with Tony wolfing down a meal.

As Tony finished his second bite, he leaned towards Steve in an obvious invitation, "Com'ere."

The gesture made Steve acutely conscious of Rhodes's presence. He wanted to kiss Tony, especially after learning about his brush with death, but instead he mentioned, "Your friend made it."

Tony twisted around to see Rhodes and Steve realized too late that his dog tags were lying on top of Tony's Black Sabbath t-shirt. There was no way he could tactfully say something without bringing attention to them. He chewed the inside of his lip while Tony bounced to his feet with an excited cry of, "Rhodey, my man!"

The two shook hands and Tony cracked a smirk, "What took you so long, you get lost on your way back from Disneyland?"

There wasn't any annoyance in his tone, but Rhodes's response was flat, "Afghanistan."

"Right, whatever. So, did you bring it?"

Steve glanced down and noticed that his sketchbook was open to a profile drawing of Tony. The man never sat still long enough to sketch, so Steve had abused the opportunity while they were waiting for word from Fury. He'd had enough time to meticulously shade everything, down to Tony's absurdly long eyelashes. It was a good rendition, but made it too obvious he'd been staring at Tony for hours. He flipped it shut with the toe of his boot, hoping the air force officer hadn't noticed it.

"I brought it, but like I told you, it's not in the best shape," Rhodes said as Tony draped an arm over his shoulder and started to leave.

"It can't be that bad, I built it. Oh!" Tony turned both of them, gesturing at Steve, "I figure you met downstairs, but this is Steve Rogers. Steve, this is my buddy James Rhodes. You've both saved my ass a few times, so be friends for me, alright?"

Shaking his head, Steve scooped up the forgotten sandwich and told Rhodes, "Sorry, he hasn't slept. It makes him weird."

"Not weird, enlightened," Tony defended.

"Don't worry, I'm used to it."

Tony took the Ruben from Steve and continued to eat it as they walked, "Let's go see what kind of damage you've done."

Tony idly chatted as they made their way downstairs. Between thoughts, he ate his sandwich, giving Rhodes a chance to answer. Steve stayed a few steps behind them. His friend's company seemed to rejuvenate Tony, giving him a spur of energy. Steve wondered if it was just Rhodes or Tony knowing that there was a suit he could use to rejoin the fight. It was probably a mix of the two.

"I'll join you in a minute," Steve said as they passed by the hall that lead to SHIELD's temporary office.

Flashing him a tired grin, Tony led Rhodes towards the garage. He really was going to have to hold Tony down so he could get some sleep. If he didn't, the man was going to fall off his feet soon. When they rounded a corner, Steve went to find Thor.

The office was still a flurry of activity. Every monitor had a different file pulled up depicting one of Natasha's potential enemies. From what Steve could tell coming in and out over the last few hours, there weren't enough computers. The Russian spy and Fury were talking in subdued tones by the conference table SHIELD brought in and Thor was standing petulantly by the covered windows. The demi-god never liked waiting for the fight to start. Glancing around, Steve didn't see Clint but that didn't mean anything, and he was fairly certain Banner was still hiding in the laboratories.

Steve tapped Thor's bare arm to get his attention, "Your girl is asleep on the floor upstairs. Might want to put her to bed."

Thor studied him a moment, then nodded, "Thank you, I will. What about Tony, has he been at all cooperative in your attempts to get him to rest?"

"No, and I don't think there's much chance of that now, his buddy just got here with the other suit," Steve groused. "And it needs work, apparently."

Thor snorted, his expression amused, "Are you not the dominant partner in your coupling? You should assert yourself, demand that he leave his work for tomorrow. Tell him you will not accept his denials."

Steve stared at him. Even with as often as Thor came to Earth, he still had the strangest concept of human interaction. Steve couldn't help imaging the suggestion, envisioning the look on Tony's face. It would be somewhere between amused and pissed. Then he would laugh it off and dismiss Steve with a wave. "Yeah, because that would go well."

"You could overpower him."

"That would go even less well."

Thor lifted his gigantic shoulders in a shrug and held out his hand to call his hammer from the floor. Mjölnir leapt to his palm with a metallic whistle. As he left, the blonde god tossed out, "You need to remind him of your dominance."

Three-quarters of the SHIELD staff were peering over their computers at Steve. Blushing, he rubbed the back of his neck and muttered something incomprehensible before going to join the director and Natasha. Natasha's knowing smirk only made things worse. Steve pretended he didn't see it, asking Fury, "Have you found anything?"

"Whoever they are, they seem to be laying low. We've got eyes and ears on every facility that manufactures what they would need to replicate the serum, but no hits yet," Fury explained with some agitation. At his core, Fury was as much of a fighter as the rest of them. He didn't like waiting for results any more than Thor did. "Do you have any idea how much longer it'll be before Tony's computers are back online?"

Steve regrettably answered, "I'm not sure. He's gotten a lot done, but Rhodes just got here with War Machine."

"Good, at least we'll-"

"Sir!" A roundish kid who didn't look old enough to shave popped up from his station. "I think I've found them."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Tony couldn't believe what he was seeing. War Machine wasn't just a mess, it was a cluster fuck. Nestled in the gray military shipping crate were pieces and parts that were roughly assembled into the shape of the machine Tony built years ago. "What the hell did you do to it," Tony growled, picking up a chunk of the scorched chest plate, "use it for target practice with an anti-aircraft gun?"

Rhodey had the decency to look embarrassed, "It was on a plane that got shot down, coming back from repairs."

Tony's head jerked up at the word 'repairs'. He liked that even less than the machine getting damaged in the first place. "Wait, who was working on the suit?"

"We have guys that have-"

"You've been letting other people tamper with it? What the hell, Rhodes?" Grabbing the helmet, Tony inspected the exposed circuitry. Everything was in disarray. It wasn't just poorly repaired it was hooked up incorrectly. If it hadn't gone down in a plane, it would've gone down in a firefight and not because it got hit. "This isn't restoration, this is sadistic." He thrust the helmet towards Rhodey, griping, "Do you see how they rewired the targeting system? You would've been shooting at clouds instead of enemies."

Rhodey blinked slowly, something that told Tony he was way beyond annoyed, "We have good engineers. I trust them."

"Well, I don't."

"Tony, the machine belongs to the US government now. We'll do whatever we need to do to keep it running."

It was clear enough that War Machine was military property. They'd painted the air force logo just above the port for the reactor and Rhodes's station was detailed on the shoulders, as it would be on a uniform. The state of the second MARK suit upset Tony enough, but something about the paintjob dragged across his nerves. When he was done with repairs, the emblems would have to be buffed off.

Giving Rhodes an acidic glare, Tony dropped the headgear in with the other parts and said, "Help me get it up to my workshop." After the words had left his mouth, he remembered that his workshop looked like a war zone. More of his tools were broken than not. The crater in the middle of the floor where his new car used to be was a problem too. The near miss with Steve was a little raw in his mind and looking at the blast area reminded him of it.

"This crate takes four people to lift, get some of-"

"You know what, change of plans," Tony cut into Rhodey's rant. "I want my stuff brought down here. I'm going to need my soldering equipment and a propylene torch and…" He stopped when he realized no one was taking notes. The half dozen guards scattered throughout the garage weren't even paying any attention to them. He glanced over at Rhodey, who only raised his eyebrows.

"Don't look at me, I'm not hauling your shit around."

Tony did a three-sixty and settled on the closest guard, one of SHIELD's black-suit agents. Like all the others of his station, he wore the obligatory sunglasses even though they were inside and an earpiece that made him look like a member of the secret service. "You," Tony yelled at him, pointing to make it clear. When the agent glanced over, he said, "Yes you. I need a propylene torch, my soldering equipment, a relay tester, and the big metal box next to the mini-bar in my workshop marked 'IX Scrap'." The MARK IX had not done well in testing and Tony decided he'd rather not explode, so it had been abandoned.

Giving him the same blank expression Coulson used to, the agent agreed to an extent, "I'll see what I can do, Mr. Stark."

"Now," Tony barked when the agent didn't immediately start moving.

The agent ran his tongue over his teeth with an impatient 'tsk' sound, but got on his walkie-talkie and gave out the instructions. When he knew his stuff was on the way, Tony started looking for a place to put it.

There wasn't anything in the garage Tony could use as a good workbench. They were in the receiving and delivery garage and it was set up a little differently from the parking structure. There were two slanted slots big enough for an eighteen-wheeler to back into, allowing the container beds to be level with the flooring for easier unloading. The tilt of the concrete made a large chunk of the garage unusable. The unloading area was big enough, but he would need a power supply. It would be simple to run a line out to the garage.

"What's with the dog tags?" Rhodey asked abruptly, interrupting his thoughts.

Automatically reaching for his chest, Tony caressed the raised letters without meaning to. He hadn't remembered that he still had them on. They probably fell out of his shirt while he was running around the tower and he hadn't noticed. So far, only the people closest to Steve and Tony knew about their relationship, even with Tony's complete lack of discretion.

The other Avengers were first to find out, since he was apparently louder in bed than he realized, then Happy, and eventually Fury because nothing stayed off SHIELD's radar for long. Though he and Steve went out on dates in public, they tried to stay low key enough that they weren't recognized. It was difficult, and Tony was always half expecting there to be a photo of them in the next day's paper with some glaring headline. There hadn't been an incident yet.

He trusted Rhodey and the colonel was the closest thing he had to a friend for a long time, but he wasn't sure how he'd take the news. Tony didn't have to make the decision to trust him with the secret; Rhodes figured it out on his own.

"They're his, aren't they?"

Tony glanced up and dropped the tags on his chest. Cautiously, he asked, "And if they are?"

"You act like it isn't obvious," Rhodey said and perched on the edge of War Machine's shipping crate. "I just wasn't expecting you to be-"

"Bi? I am considered a sexual deviant, Rhodey. There shouldn't be much that surprises you on that front."

The line of Rhodey's mouth thinned as he crossed his arms over his chest, "That's not what I was going to say. I wasn't expecting you to be so happy in a monogamous relationship." Rhodey cut the air with the side of his hand to stop Tony's impending argument, "And don't you give me some bullshit about you still being a player, because you're wearing his _dog tags_. You don't accept gifts, especially not personal ones."

Rhodey had him cornered on that one. Tony shied away from anything overly sappy, but, for a reason that was beyond him, he enjoyed the weight and meaning of Steve's tags. It was grossly romantic and he didn't know why he would willingly participate in something so sticky-sweet.

Tony sighed, wanting to avert the conversation from how painfully sentimental his relationship made him, "No bullshit?" When the stern air force officer shook his head, Tony admitted, "The sex is great."

"You're impossible."

"Yes, and I need a workbench," Tony said and cast around the room again for a usable surface.

He was considering getting the oversized table from the meeting room on level two when Steve hurried into the garage. The super soldier's expression alerted Tony that something had changed. They'd found them.

"A medical facility in Louisville just went under attack. We're suiting up," Steve told him. "Can you get your repairs done in…" His question died when he saw the state of War Machine.

Tony knew Steve was mentally taking him out of his tactics. Scratch one airborne assist, potentially replace with helicopter. There was no way he could be of use without the armor, at least not on the field. It would take him hours to fix it, too much time to keep the rest of the group. If they waited that long, the attack would be over and there'd be nothing left for them to work with.

Grinding his teeth hard enough that the others could probably hear it, Tony said, "Go, I'll catch up when I can."

Steve gave him a sympathetic look that didn't help. Glancing at Rhodey, the big blonde hesitated. Tony could guess what he wanted. He grabbed the collar of Steve's shirt before he could go and yanked him into a kiss. There was tangible shock to push past and then Steve melted and his tongue swept through Tony's mouth. They lingered a moment longer than Rhodey was comfortable with, making the colonel clear his throat.

Tony pulled away, looking into the calm, blue depths of Steve's eyes when he said, "Give them hell."

"I plan to," Steve responded.

Tony watched him leave silently. The muscle in his jaw ticked as he forced himself to go back to work. Men came in with the tools he requested, setting them up along the wall. Tony picked up the silver helmet and the faceplate came off in his hand, he had to fight down the urge to scream and throw it across the room. Drowning himself in scotch sounded really appealing, but it wouldn't get him back in the air.

"I can't believe you're fucking the American, good-ol'-boy icon. There's something really wrong about that," Rhodey deduced far more easily than he should have. He'd always been good at figuring people out, a talent that Tony lacked most days. For him to know that he and Steve were dating and Steve was Captain America in only twenty minutes was pretty normal.

Tony didn't answer him, his mind occupied by the replacement chip the air force grunts had put in for processing flight information. It was a low-end model, too old to keep up with the stream of data the suit required.

"Well, technically I'm supposed to be the only one in that machine, so I'm not leaving the codes in the crate and I didn't hear anything about you taking it for a joyride, clear?" Tony's grunt was enough of a response because Rhodey got to his feet. He clasped Tony's shoulder and said, "Good luck, man," before he left.

Then Tony was alone with the broken shell of what was once Iron Man.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Is anybody else worried about Stark?"

Steve leveled a look at Clint that said 'don't start'. If the archer wasn't across the plane from him, he might've hit him over the side of the head for bringing it up. Without him asking, Natasha did it for him.

"Shut up," the Russian hissed.

Clint's brow dipped, but he ignored the strike, "I'm being serious. Tony's like the kid on the playground that always gets picked first for everything and all of a sudden he's not allowed to play. He'll be plastered by the time we get back."

"Did you just compare our work to children's games? How exactly does saving the world equate with Red Rover?" Bruce asked from where he was standing near the cockpit. Always curious, he'd been watching the gauges and instruments while they were in the air. Their pilot was accommodating enough that he even explained what some of the readouts meant after take off.

Thor looked puzzled, "What is a Red Rover?"

Steve wasn't sure what it was either, but didn't much care. He watched as Natasha leaned to whisper in the archer's ear. Even with as quiet as she was, Steve's hearing was good enough to catch it, "We really don't need the Cap thinking about that right now, he needs to focus."

"You don't have to worry about me losing focus in a fight, Ms. Romanoff," he said as respectfully as he could.

He was worried about Tony, and Clint's fears were directly in line with his. If Tony didn't narrow his attention to his work, he'd be halfway into a bottle of scotch before they got home. It was a major character flaw that Steve didn't know how to begin to approach. Tony was undeniably self-destructive when things were out of his control. It reminded Steve of what Rhodes told him in the elevator.

Setting the edge of his shield on the floor in front of him, Steve rested his forearms on the lip, "Natasha, you were assigned to Tony when his first reactor went bad. What do you know about it?"

"Don't, Cap." The spy shook her head slightly, her curls bouncing around her face, "You don't need to be thinking about that before a fight."

"Tell me."

"You should be asking him," there was nothing about the statement that gave room for argument. Natasha sat back in her seat with a faint creak of leather, checking the charge on her gauntlet taser. "All you need to know is that the effects were reversed and he's fine."

"How close did he come?"

"Close enough that he was divvying up his stuff," Clint said and dodged Natasha's swipe. "What? It's true."

Natasha's exasperated sigh was cut short by the pilot announcing their arrival. Thor was up first, pressing the door release. Air rushed into the plane. It tugged at their hair and clothes, so loud it was almost impossible to hear anything else. Thor went to the end of the ramp and looked out into the darkness at the ground below. Steve picked up his shield before he joined him.

They were still high enough that the city lights spread out like a swarm of fireflies, the liquid glare of roads criss-crossing through the brilliance. Even from the height they were at, Steve could see the flash of emergency vehicles clustered around a building. It would take them a little time to descend, but Steve wanted eyes and ears down there now.

"Thor!" Steve yelled over the scream of wind, "Go ahead of us and assess the situation. If there are any civilians in immediate danger, you get them out of the way. Don't engage the enemy until we get there, unless there's not another choice."

With a nod, Thor whipped his hammer into a turbine and leapt from the ramp. He was gone in a blink. Steve grabbed the roof railing to stabilize himself as he went back to the others.

"Bring us down," he called to the pilot.

The Avengers were waiting for their instructions. Just like with the Howling Commandos, he'd evolved into their leader without intending on it. Other people followed him, so Steve had become accustomed to taking the first step. In the war, they'd given him his title for things he hadn't done yet so they could make him an icon. Now, he felt as if he'd finally filled the shoes the designation came with.

"Natasha, we're going to move around the sides of the building to make sure they only have one way in and out. Clint, I want you on the roof. If you see one getting away, put him down, but don't kill him. We're going to need somebody talking when this is all over." Steve turned to Bruce. The situation didn't call for the mayhem the Hulk caused, which he was sure the doctor would be grateful for. "Banner, I want you to stay on the ship unless I give the word. You're backup."

Bruce gave a sardonic smile, "And do you need me to jump out of the plane or is he going to stay on the ground?"

"Whatever works for you."

The plane jerked as it touched down on the roof. Steve and the spies jogged onto the gravel surface, the jet lifting into the air as soon as they were clear. When the engine-noise was gone, Steve realized how quiet it was. There was no sound but the wind in the small trees ringing the parking lot. Emergency lights flared across the building over and over, an endless SOS.

"Where's the noise?" Clint asked as he went to the edge of the roof. Nothing surprised any of them anymore, but the line of the archer's shoulders visibly tensed. "Cap, come look at this."

Steve knew he wasn't going to like what he saw. The tops of the trees came into view first, their leaves illuminated in alternating red and blue. A fire truck was parked in the middle of the lot. It was on its side, a massive dent in the middle as if it had been hit by a wrecking ball. Bits of rubber and metal trailed across the cement where it slid. The police cars were worse. Some had been flipped upside down and crushed nearly flat. One was wrapped around a young tree like a lover. There wasn't a human soul in sight. There was evidence of them, blood smears and a forgotten limb lying across the hood of a squad car, but the people were missing.

A massive crash burst through the silence, spurring them to the other side of the roof. They got there just as Thor was climbing to his feet three stories below them. "You know not who you trifle with," the demi-god snarled.

A collection of men trickled out of the building after him, five in all. A brunette in a long black coat was laughing, "What's she want with these losers anyway?"

"Doesn't matter, she said keep the blonde and the doctor alive and the rest are fair game," another answered.

They circled Thor, the one in the coat speaking again, "How does she want us to bring him back? Should we knock him out?"

Thor's smug expression was beyond dangerous. He lifted his hammer threateningly, "You can attempt it, but you would be testing the fates."

Steve had seen enough. He pointed to Hawkeye, "I still want you up here. There's something weird about this and I want somebody watching our backs."

The archer snatched an arrow out of his mechanical quiver and notched it, "Gotcha, Cap."

"You're with me," Steve told Natasha before he jumped off the roof. He knew she'd find her own way to the ground.

The three-story freefall got his blood pumping, shooting adrenaline through his system like a drug. He hit the cement lot in a tuck, shield first, and rolled to his feet. The impact jarred him a little, but not enough to slow him down. The loud ring of metal on stone drew the men's attention. It was too late for them to react. Steve slung his arm in an arc, letting the shield go. It slammed into the chest of the closest, rebounding into the man on his right and returning to Steve's wrist.

He lowered the shield and lifted his chin, "I believe you boys have the wrong blonde."

"May I engage the enemy now that you have arrived?" Thor asked through his snarl, the restraint clearly too much to deal with.

Before the group could recover from Steve's initial attack, he gave the order, "Keep at least one alive."

At war with the Nazis, they'd left no survivors, and Steve still hadn't gotten used to the idea that criminals and villains needed to be subdued instead of killed. These men had broken into Tony's home, into the Avengers' home, and destroyed everything. They'd intended to kill Tony. Steve could find no mercy for them.

Thor threw his hammer at a tall man with more tattoos than blank skin. The hunk of metal hit low on the man's ribcage with a crunch, sending him flying through the building's brick wall. Red dust exploded from the point of impact, hanging in the air.

Steve whirled around and slammed the edge of his shield into a jaw. The man he'd hit went down as dead weight, limp and lifeless. Pivoting, he used his momentum to sling a punch into a gangly guy that was coming at him with a knife. His bulbous nose crumpled under Steve's knuckles.

A crackle of electricity made Steve swivel with his shield raised. Natasha had her legs wrapped around one of the culprit's necks, her built-in taser crammed against his skin. When he fell, Steve realized it was the same one he'd just knocked unconscious just moments ago. It was hard to mistake the jagged scar running through the guy's eyebrow.

The man with inked skin climbed through the wreckage of the building, dusting himself off as though he'd taken a bad spill instead of Thor's hammer to his vital organs. On the ground, the man in the trench coat was laughing. Natasha traded a glance with Steve that carried the same question he was asking himself. What was going on?

With a shout, Thor lifted Mjölnir high above his head and brought it down on the brunette. The man's hand shot out to catch it. Cement ruptured underneath him, but the weapon never struck him. Thor's muscles corded and strained from the effort. After a second of fighting with him, Thor released his hold on the hammer and let the enchantment making Thor its only wielder do its work. It crashed into the brunette's shoulder with a bang.

The brunette screamed, the scream morphing and deepening as his flesh bulged. Other voices joined his. Steve took a step back and cast his eyes around the abandoned lot. All five were shouting, their muscle and bone rearranging under their skin in a way that was disturbingly familiar.

As they gained mass, Steve pressed the communicator in the side of his helmet for a connection with the plane, "Banner, I think we're going to need you after all."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Bam… TBC.

Those of you who know me know I love a good cliffhanger. I'm sorry, it's an addiction. I hope the last few pages make sense, it's like four-thirty in the morning where I am. I'll edit them if they don't.


	8. Flying Solo

So I have to give a shout out to all of you lovely people that keep leaving me reviews. They make me super happy and inspire me to keep writing. Thank you so much for letting me know what you think of my story. Those of you who come back to comment again and again, you know who you are and you always make my day.

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The flames from his blowtorch sparked, throwing flecks of blue and green. Heat curled across the bare skin of his arms where his thick, leather gloves ended. Tony had long since lost track of the hours. What he knew was that War Machine had a solid power supply to every weapon and extremity and he'd fixed all of the 'repairs' to the targeting system.

Tony sat back to check the new seam along the side of the helm. It looked a little rough, but for the time he had, it would suffice. Fury was standing near the end of his workbench. He'd been there for several minutes. Though Tony noticed the moment he'd walked in, he'd chosen to ignore him until he finished what he was doing.

Setting the helmet down, he pushed the welding goggles onto his forehead and said, "If you're here with bad news, I don't want to hear it." He cranked down the gas intake on the torch until the fire sputtered and went out.

"Then you'd better shut your ears," Fury said without any fanfare, holding his hand out to one of his agents. The man brought over a shipping box that had already been torn open and set it in Fury's outstretched palm. "You received a package. Since you've been the target of some unexplained anger, we took the liberty of opening it."

Tony could explain the anger. He could explain it in eight ways, and all the reasons started with M and ended with ARK. The package was nondescript, no emblems or shipping labels on the surface. It would've been delivered by courier, giving them a chance to hunt down the original sender. From where he was sitting, Tony couldn't see inside.

Fury didn't keep him waiting long. He reached into the box and pulled out the golden mask for one of his suits. The mask was one of the few things that didn't change drastically from suit to suit, so he wasn't sure which one it belonged to without examining the seals and lock points. Ugly black letters were scrawled across the bright metal in what looked like greasepaint.

Tony jumped up and snatched the faceplate from Fury, reading the note, 'For the return of your heroism, you will send $5,000,000,000.' He turned it over. There was nothing else inside. They were probably planning on contacting him with details once it had arrived. The mistake would put them in SHIELD's net. Tony wasn't so sure he wanted to wait that long, he was already wondering why they would send him a ransom note when they thought he was dead. If they had a camera in the workshop, they would've seen Steve go down instead and that would explain the change in plans.

"Do you have the courier?"

"He's downstairs answering some questions," Fury said and put his hands on his hips, "Now, Stark, you shouldn't consider-"

"Paying them?" Tony filled in, glancing up at him.

It was a good bet that Fury hadn't wanted to bring him in on this. The director probably wanted to locate the culprits without him so they could go in with the team and leave Tony in daycare. Tony wasn't going to be left behind. His biggest connection would be the camera, if there was one, and there was no way he was giving that up to Fury.

"You have no idea what they'll do with that money, you need to let us track them and go in to recover the suits," the director explained as though he was talking to a kid.

It made Tony's eye twitch. He bit out, "I know what I need to do, Fury. Thanks. Why don't you focus on the courier service so I can finish my work?"

Fury stood there a long time, studying Tony with his one good eye as if he knew exactly what Tony was thinking. It was easy enough to go back to War Machine, Tony was more than comfortable ignoring things while he worked. Setting the faceplate to the side, he picked up one of the boots and tested the control surfaces. The two main flaps at the calf lifted the way they should, but the smaller ones were still too damaged.

As he reached for a pair of pliers, Fury finally went for the door. He heard him tell the agents in the room to keep watch, skipping the 'on him', but it was definitely implied. Tony yanked his goggles over his annoyance. He couldn't just run upstairs to look for the camera without being obvious, so he bided his time. Finishing the control surfaces on the left leg took forty minutes, long enough that he wouldn't be suspected if he went upstairs.

Tony made a show of taking off his gloves and putting away his equipment, rolling his shoulders and rubbing the back of his neck as if he'd been at the grindstone too long. "Any of you boys want some coffee?" he asked without waiting for an answer. "There's a Starbucks around the corner at thirty-first and sixth, get me one while you're out. Double espresso, no fat, tallest one they make."

It was difficult to keep his pace casual, even slower than casual since he was supposed to be tired, as he went into the lobby. Well, he was tired. Exhausted, actually, but the possibility of getting his suits back was more powerful than the lull of sleep. Upstairs, there were fewer agents and he was able to jog towards his workshop. The light in the media room caught his eye. He slowed enough to look in.

Jane was awake again and reading through his code for Jarvis. The four new server cabinets were lined up along the wall like sentinels. Cords ran back and forth between them and the computers Tony had been rebuilding Jarvis on, so Jane had gotten as far as data transfer. She chewed at one fingernail absently while Tony watched, typing a few lines.

"Can you follow what I was doing?" he asked.

Jane yelped and looked up at him with wide, guilty eyes, obviously expecting Tony to be angry that she was adding to his programming. She put her hands in her lap, stuttering, "I was just looking at- at the… Your iteration for streamlining the decision process is sublime; I've never seen anything like it."

"It keeps things simpler," Tony said. Working with her for the last two days, Tony had found a lot of respect for Dr. Foster. She was as brilliant as everyone claimed she was, which was the only reason he trusted her with Jarvis, "Do you think you can finish it?"

She looked at the screen a long time, her eyes flickering over the code before they returned to his, "Yes, I can."

"Good, because I'm going to need it up and running as soon as possible," Tony picked up one of the extraneous laptops and left.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Steve felt something crack underneath him and hoped it was the concrete and not his spine. He figured there would be more pain if it was a bone. With a shout, he kicked the gigantic creature off of him and rolled to his feet. There was no doubt that Banner's serum was farther along than he thought. Steve would ask him about it, but the doctor was green and not particularly talkative at the moment.

They'd managed to narrow the five monstrosities down to four, but they were all worn out. These things were almost as big as Bruce was at his full, gamma-created height, and nearly as strong. Each one was a little different. The man in the trench coat had morphed into a slumped, gray mass with enough muscle on his shoulders to sling a bus across a football field. He was smarter than the others were and could still manage complete sentences. He'd also stayed out of range of Thor and the Hulk, focusing on Steve.

The one with the tattoos had grown a number of spines along his back and the crest of his skull, though several of them were broken this far into the fight. He had an arrow sticking out of one shoulder, and either didn't notice or care as he tried to grab Natasha.

She slid between his legs and clambered up his back using the spikes as handholds. The knife she jammed behind his ear snapped off at the hilt. As she reached for her gun, the spiny creature snagged her arm and chunked her across the parking lot. The spy hit the ground hard, rolling end over end until she could regain control. Natasha continued to slide on her toes and fingertips, her head snapping up to judge where the threat had gone.

Thor grappled with a bluish-green beast that had a mane of dark hair around his neck and claws like daggers. He wrapped Thor in a bone-crushing bear hug, his grin showing off his four-inch teeth. Steve ran towards him to help. Before he could get too close, a gray fist careened towards his back. He dodged to the left and slammed his shield down on the wrist. A snap preceded the gray creature's howl of pain. The thing's thick brow tilted down so heavily that it almost blocked his eyes. Steve kept his stance tight and low, waiting for the next attack.

A searing bolt of lightning leapt out of the sky and struck Thor. The demi-god's scream was more rage than pain as the electricity crackled through him and his enemy. Even Banner stopped in his fight to watch. More volts than Steve could even begin to guess at made the blue monstrosity seize and sizzle, so bright it sent the parking lot into sharp relief.

As soon as it was over and he fell, steaming, to the ground, Hulk grabbed his opponent and threw him into a white truck parked near the building. The metal came apart like tissue paper, the force of it knocking the vehicle onto its side. One leap and the Hulk was on the other abomination again. He planted a foot in his back as he pulled the thing's arms hard enough to rip them out of the socket. Flesh parted with a sound like tearing fabric, blood pouring onto the ground in rhythmic gushes. Three arrows streamed from the rooftop in quick succession. All three sunk into the creature's head before Banner could finish tearing him apart. His plaything dead, the Hulk beat his chest with his fists and gave a victorious cry.

Steve ducked under a wild swing, focusing on his own fight. He deflected a blow off the striped edge of his shield and jumped into the air to kick the leader in the stomach. Stumbling back on legs as big around as an elephant's, the gray brute balanced his weight on his knuckles and snarled. He lunged at Steve, feinting to the right. Steve was halfway into the dodge when he realized what he'd done. He barely managed to get his shield between him and the fist streaming towards him.

The hit rang off the building, reverberating through Steve's arms and sending him flying. He tucked up to lessen the impact of the cement, but hit a car instead. Glass exploded around him. For a moment, there was nothing but the gut-wrenching grip of agony. He fell forward onto one knee, vaguely aware that his shield skittered away across the pavement. The heavy thud-thud of a large approaching mass made him shake his head and stagger upright. Screaming, the gray monstrosity thundered across the lot, beady eyes intent on him.

Steve tried to be ready for it, but he was still recovering from the last strike. Hulk smacked into Steve's foe with the sound of flesh slapping flesh. Both were bare from the waist up, having outgrown their clothes very quickly. The gray one was definitely the biggest of the five. When he straightened up to roar in Banner's face, they were the same height. Hulk returned the bellow, the veins standing out on his thick neck.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw the spiny creature catch a handful of Natasha's hair and pick her up. The demi-god was closer and Steve knew he'd never get there from where he was standing. "Thor!" Steve shouted, pointing out at the Russian spy, "Help her!"

Thor lifted his hand to call the hammer as the spiny muscle mass lifted a hand to swat Natasha like a bug. There wasn't enough time. Steve darted for his shield. The scrape of metal on stone seemed deafening as he snagged the red edge and prepared to throw it. Mjölnir landed in Thor's hand and the demi-god immediately shifted his weight forward, his arm stretching out. Natasha grabbed the thick fingers tangled in her hair and swung up to wrap her legs around the thing's forearm. She went for a firearm strapped to her thigh, her mouth open in a silent cry.

Clint dropped off the roof with a bowie knife in hand. Using the momentum from the fall, he slammed it into the abomination's eye. They went down together as the rest of Clint's body caught up and he crashed into the thing's shoulders. The archer tumbled out of Steve's view, but his grunt of pain was hard to miss. Natasha fell from the slack hand, landing on her side. She was on her feet before Steve could blink.

"Clint?" she called, her voice calm, but loud. "Talk to me." She climbed over the still twitching body so she could get to Agent Barton.

Steve ran over to see the extent of the damage. Clint was a few feet from his kill, left hand gripping a deep gouge on his thigh. Blood ran freely through his fingers. When Natasha pushed his hand away, Steve saw the broken piece of spine sticking out from the flayed tissue. He must've landed on it. Clint grimaced and dropped his head onto the cement when Natasha drew the spike out, his shallow intakes of air hissing through his teeth.

"You shouldn't have done that," she scolded as she put pressure on the wound.

Clint curled his hands into fists, pushing them against his forehead. Even heavy with hurt, his voice was as level as Natasha's was, "I've done stupider for a lot less."

"Why didn't you just shoot-"

"Couldn't. The only tips I had left were explosive," the archer explained and let his hands drop from his face. When he slid bloody fingers around the back of Natasha's neck, she got still, her eyes searching his. Clint added, "You were too close."

Steve suddenly felt that he was interrupting an incredibly intimate moment. He backed off with a flush. As he turned, he saw the Hulk smash the head of last survivor between his palms. The only order he'd given when this started was to leave one alive. Now they had no connection back to the woman pulling the strings. With an aggravated sigh, Steve called their ride and a med-evac, and pushed his mask off his face.

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The camera was hidden more effectively than Tony thought it would be. He'd searched all over the workshop, in every nook and cranny he could find within view of the blackened crater in the middle of his floor. It was extremely compact, part of the reason why it was so easy to hide. The lens was the size of Tony's thumbnail and the attached transmitter was approximately the dimensions of a matchbox.

He found the device built into the frame of his red and blue Shepard Fairey painting of Iron Man. It was situated in the corner of the metal rectangle, the black on black almost unnoticeable unless someone was looking for it. From the slight build-up of dust around the edges of the lens, Tony could tell it had been there for a while. There was no way to be sure how long they'd been gathering intelligence on him. Tony's lip curled at the thought. He'd figure out how they got in to set it up later, right now he needed to know where the wireless device was sending its data.

Tony pried open the backing on the frame with a folding knife and carefully extracted the gadget. After setting up a secure line to ensure no one downstairs would be monitoring his search, Tony hooked up the wireless transmitter to computer he'd brought with him. The connection was encrypted, but he bypassed that in less than a minute. A map of the tri-state area illuminated the screen, several red cross-hairs scanning the image as the computer pinned down the feed. They met over a sparsely populated part of northern Pennsylvania. The image zoomed and enhanced and the tracking started again. It narrowed down to a large, sprawling building that appeared to be a shipping warehouse. A few dozen eighteen wheelers were backed against the sides of the building, sticking out at the same angle both the north and south ends.

Tony memorized the coordinates, a feral grin tugging at the side of his mouth. He dropped the camera on the floor and smashed it under his heel. The plastic ruptured, sending flecks of black dust out in a starburst. Satisfied, Tony went for the stairs. He took them two at a time, leaping to the next landing when the fall wouldn't be too far.

He stopped at the industrial door that led to the garage. There were a dozen men surrounding War Machine. They might let him go, since Fury didn't usually get in the way if there was work to be done, but he knew that Fury would want details. Tony wasn't in the mindset to stand around explaining. He needed to be in the air yesterday.

There was a security pad by the door. Brain humming with inspiration, Tony slid his hand over the dark screen to wake it and tapped his access code on the glowing, blue letters. He bypassed the base program and got into the mainframe. A few quick adjustments and the crisis alarm started screaming. Strobes flicked on, filling the stairwell with a dizzying pattern of light.

SHIELD would track the alarm directly to his keypad, so Tony vaulted up the stairs to the level above. He heard voices behind him, but didn't turn back. There was another stairwell in the center of the tower, Tony sprinted to it and returned to the ground floor. Easing his head out into the open to make sure it was clear, he slid through the back halls to avoid Fury's agents. The garage was empty when he got there.

Tony got the silver armor in place as quickly as he could, tightening each piece with a tool he'd specifically designed to fit in the narrow creases. The alarm shut down. Tony glanced at the nearest strobe and yanked on a boot. He didn't have much time before they descended on him. Reading the launch codes Rhodey left him, Tony put on the gauntlets and twisted the dial at the wrist that would close the dozens of clasps.

"Stark!" Fury's shout reached him before the director walked into his line of sight. "That suit isn't even close to deployment ready, don't you dare-"

"Stay out of it." Tony snapped the helmet closed. The HUD brought up one line of text asking for the access key. Backing away from Fury, Tony spoke the nine digit password in the military's phonic alphabet, "Whiskey mike four seven eight three, foxtrot dash Juliet Romeo."

The screen blinked black, and then a silver eagle appeared under the words, 'Welcome Colonel Rhodes'. Scans of the local weather and air traffic immediately appeared, but the layout was foreign to Tony. His heads up display was incredibly efficient and clean, but the air force programming was just as cluttered as the 'repairs'. A line of minute text scrolled by on the left side, some kind of feed from the military network. Through all of it, he saw Fury's disapproving face getting closer.

Tony engaged the thrusters and lifted off the ground, "Gotta go." He turned the hand-stabilizers towards the wall, pushing the thrust to fifteen percent and bolting out of the garage. The exit tunnel whipped by him. Tearing through the metal gate without slowing, Tony shot into the sky and put the boosters on full-burn. The boom from him breaking the sound barrier rattled nearby windows.

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While the medical team loaded Clint onto a helicopter, Thor and Steve explored the building. They were looking for any evidence that would lead them to the mind behind the attack. The facility wasn't what Steve was expecting. After seeing labs like the ones in the tower, the blocky equipment and plain, sterile rooms were almost tame. Steve wondered if it was an old laboratory or if Tony's 'toys' were just that high tech. The latter was more likely.

"I do not understand what we are searching for," Thor complained from the next room.

"Anything that will help us find them."

A moment passed and the tall blonde joined Steve. He rubbed his beard thoughtfully, or in a way that Steve hoped was thoughtful, "Many of the items they would need to recreate Banner's monstrosity are here, but they have not been disturbed. We did not arrive in a timely enough fashion to catch them before they could load the transportation, so why have they not taken the medications?"

Steve shook his head as he looked around the neat room. Thor was right. Except for the damage they'd caused from the outside, it didn't appear that anything else had been touched. Enough time went by between the initial alarm and their arrival that they should've been chasing the perpetrators through the streets instead of catching them in the act. And there were still the missing cops to consider. Steve couldn't quite make the picture come together.

The presence of the men proved that Banner's serum worked well enough to use as-is, but Steve didn't know how much of it had been stolen from the tower. There couldn't have been enough to create the five monstrosities they faced with the massive margin for error Bruce talked about. They had to be producing the serum in large scale already.

"This place was meant to entice us," Thor said suddenly. "They knew we would be searching for them and used it against us, leading us into a snare like the unwitting greckneir."

Steve didn't care that Thor's references only made sense to him, the rest of his words rang true. They'd pulled them out into the open and ambushed them with a force that should've been enough to wipe them out, and the serum still wasn't right. Steve didn't want to imagine what the results would be when it had been perfected.

"I don't think the cops were bait or they would've left them alive," Steve mentioned, his mind chewing on the puzzle. He snapped his fingers and slapped his fist into his palm, "They needed more test subjects, but how did they get them out of here?"

"Of that, I am not sure."

"We need Fury to check flights in the area, see if anyone reported an unauthorized aircraft," Steve said and went to the exit.

The area was teaming with SHIELD agents. Most were cleaning up the bodies and gore, their normal clothes covered by white biohazard suits that crinkled loudly when they walked. The upper-crust agents were monitoring the progress and doling out orders. Someone had gotten Hulk to calm down enough that Banner was stooped over the gray creature that had it out for Steve. The doctor was holding up his pants with one hand, the loose material flowing over his knuckles.

Seeing the consequences of Bruce's unauthorized experiment so close to the man himself, it brought Steve's anger back. He wanted to ream the doctor even it wasn't going to change anything. Unfortunately, Banner was only a few minutes out of his other form and the slightest word could send him into it again. There were too many people in the area now, too many potential victims for Bruce's rage, so Steve choked on his righteous argument and turned away.

"Rogers," Natasha's use of his name brought him back to reality. "Fury's been trying to get a hold of you, where's your earpiece?"

Steve had communications built into his mask because he very rarely remembered the tiny bud that was somehow both a speaker and receiver. It was one of those things he'd never had to deal with before the ice. Grabbing the nose guard, Steve pulled the hood on and tapped the sensor over his ear, "This is Rogers to Fury, come in."

"Either keep your damn mask on or start wearing that earpiece, don't make me kick your ass over this," Fury's thin voice growled.

"Yes, sir."

"Listen up, Stark has gone rogue and you're the only one who can reel him in before he gets himself killed."

Steve pressed the earpiece against the side of his head, certain he'd heard that incorrectly, "I'm sorry, what? What do you mean rogue?"

"He took off about ten minutes ago. We're still trying to decode the search he performed before he left, but it's a good bet he's found the home base for these people."

Eyes going wide, Steve looked around at the serum-enhanced monsters it had taken almost the entire team to destroy. If there were more like them, there was no way Tony could handle it alone, not with the busted up War Machine. Tony had no idea what he was flying into.

"Has anyone contacted him? We can be there soon, tell him to wait. He doesn't need to go in alo-"

"Captain."

"He needs backup-"

"Captain!" Fury barked, finally getting Steve to shut up. "War Machine isn't set up on the same system as Iron Man, we don't have access to his communications. You're going to have to intercept him."

"But you don't have the coordinates yet."

"No, but I'll send them to you as soon as we do."

Steve stood listening to the empty static on Fury's end, his mouth set in a tight line. After a few seconds, the speaker went quiet as the director terminated the connection. He was aware of Thor and Natasha watching him. They would've picked up enough from his side of the conversation to know what was going on.

Clint pushed a medic out of the way and slid out of the helicopter, limping over, "What's the news?"

"Tony went alone."

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Tony circled the building while he decided on the best angle of entry. It looked exactly the same as it did in the satellite screenshots, down to the number of trucks backed against the sides. There was a good chance that those didn't move much. They were probably just there for appearances. Never one for determining a treat level or doing an enemy count before launching into a fight, Tony wasn't terribly concerned that the old MARK suit didn't have infrared built in. It would've been nice to know where the enemies would be inside, but not necessary.

Tony preferred blowing things up first and asking questions later.

Picking a spot in the center of the roof, Tony rocketed towards it. At the very last moment, he flipped so he was going feet-first. The structure gave away easily under the weight of the suit. He slammed into the warehouse, landing on one knee with a clang, his hands raised to throw out a pulse of energy at anyone close.

The open space was full of men. They were unloading boxes off trucks that were marked with a dozen different logos, biohazard symbols, and radiation warnings. War Machine's HUD scanned them quickly, throwing up notes about the contents. There was no doubt Tony was in the right place. There was enough material gathered to make Bruce's serum a few hundred times over. Tony wondered how they'd managed to get away with so much of it with SHIELD's network scanning for police reports and hospital alarms.

Most of the men stayed frozen, watching him with cautious eyes, while others were putting down their freight and moving towards him slowly. The lineup didn't much resemble a trucking crew. With the variety of gang tattoos, it looked more like a prison lot. Tony stood, rotating his head so the targeting system could get a lock on as many of them as it was capable of.

Giving enough power to the hand thrusters for them to brighten and hum, Tony said, "I think you all know why I'm here, so hand over my stuff and I won't blow you all to kingdom come." The MARK's amplifier made his voice sound deeper, more mechanical. It was a glitch he never bothered to fix.

No one backed off. The men in the room didn't even blink. Tony wondered if he should've started the threat with Rhodey's massive shoulder Gatling gun. It was overkill, but made a definite impression.

"Mr. Stark, what a pleasant surprise," a female voice crooned, though she didn't sound at all surprised. Tony detected a faint Russian accent hiding in her tone.

He turned to see a woman saunter into the receiving bay from another part of the warehouse. Though she was compact, barely five foot three if Tony had to guess, and couldn't weigh more than ninety pounds, she commanded the attention of the room. She had raven hair that fell down her back in gentle waves and a smile that was strangely disarming. Her floral, summer dress added to Tony's feeling that she was out of place. She was very normal, so normal that she could've walked into his tower as a waitress at one of his parties or a maid and he never would've given her a second glance.

Tony lowered his hands slightly, letting the power-level drop as the convicts moved away, "Who are you?"

The woman looked away, her lips pursing as if she was thinking through his question, "You hero-types love names with cryptic double-meanings, so…" She trailed off and heaved an exaggerated sigh. Her face lit up with fake realization and she said, "You may call me Scorn." The smile that followed was nowhere close to the sweet, innocent grin she'd given him moments earlier. It was laced with darkness.

"Right, and the Avengers have done something to piss you off, so now you're 'scorned' and you're going to take it out on everybody in existence. I've heard this one before," Tony jumped to the conclusion quickly. "But you have no idea who you're messing with. Banner's serum isn't even close to usable and my suits are worthless to you without Jarvis, so you've already painted yourself into a corner."

Scorn trailed her hand over a green crate with a biohazard sticker that slanted across the front. Never taking her eyes off Tony, she said, "Well, the bit about your suits is true. I was really hoping the bomb in the workshop would take you out of the equation, but your boyfriend is just too good, isn't he?" Her hips swayed to the side as she leaned on the crate, her lips quirking up at the corners, "And isn't he just, though? I've had the privilege of watching a few of your rendezvous. On the hood of your last project…"

Tony curled his hands into fists.

"And over the workbench and against the wall. You nearly knocked the painting down that time. I was a little worried you'd find my camera and I'd lose my porn station," she continued, drawing crackles of laughter from the men around her.

As furious as it made him, it told Tony exactly when the camera was installed. What he was still trying to figure out was how the woman managed to hack Jarvis. She was definitely more than she looked, just like Natasha. It was part of what made her so convincing as a double.

"But as far as Doctor Banner's incredible serum, I stole that weeks ago. That's the beauty of your Avengers Initiative, you're very rarely all in one place. I knew he wouldn't notice until you got another crisis call, since that's the only time he's in the tower," Scorn said and walked towards him, her nails scraping lightly over the hazardous crate as she moved away from it. "I've had plenty of time to finish stabilizing the effects."

The tingle of adrenaline and fear prickled along the base of his spinal column and crawled up through his back, tightening every muscle it came to. When she reached to slip her hand around the back of his head, he was as taut as Clint's bowstring, his lip twitching behind the faceplate.

Scorn got up on her toes and placed a kiss on the crease of War Machine's mouth, pulling back just enough to whisper, "It's nothing personal, Mr. Stark. You were just in the way." Her eyes locked on the front of his mask, she raised her voice to shout, "Take him apart, but leave him alive. I want the reactor," before she left.

Tony pushed power into all of the weapons, heating up with a mechanical whir. Not waiting for someone else to make the first strike, he pushed blasts of energy at the two closest men and sent them flying with a trail of smoke. The Gatling clanked as it picked up speed.

The crowd was moving then. Instead of running away, they were running to him, screaming and shouting and _grinning_. Tony showered them with a stream of bullets that could cut through a tree trunk. He hit the ones that managed to get past the mini-gun with pulses from the thrusters. They went down as fast as they came at him, but Tony noticed that there was no blood. He wasn't hurting them.

A glaring warning popped up in front of his left eye as the Gatling made a horrendous screech and stopped firing. The flashing red screamed that there was a jam. Cussing, Tony switched to the arm-mounted missiles and fired them into the mass of men. The explosion left glare on his screen.

His opponents were getting bigger. One broke through his defense and smashed both hands into his back. Tony clanged against the cement, damage readouts blinking furiously before his eyes. The suit was in such a sorry state of repair that it wouldn't take too many hits. Tony briefly lamented not spending more time on it and rolled out of the way as an oversized foot came down where his head had been. The foot was so large it had broken out of the shoe, the remnants of the boot clinging limply to the man's ankle.

Tony scrambled upright and kept firing. His breathing was ragged and loud in the helmet, covering the shouts of the morphing convicts. He fired everything he could, everything he had. For the handful his weapons took down, there were a dozen more. They were everywhere. He was outmatched.

Tony put all of his power in the thrusters and shot towards the ceiling. Something clamped down over his ankle. He jerked to a stop, the boosters whining with strain. Tony twisted and let out a blast directly into the leering face of the monster holding onto him, but the thing pulled him down into the mob.

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TBC! OMG, TONY! I know I hurt your feels, I promise to fix them soon.

Before you all go running off to search for this villain, you won't find her. She is an OC. I know that might not please some of you, but I find a lot of the Marvel villains a little cheesy and wanted to bring in someone new. You'll find out more about her as we progress.

*Edit* Aparently there is a character called Scorn and I fail at googling. She's not the same character, so ignore any connection you might have made. Too many marvel villains to keep up with them all...


	9. An Echo of the Past

Thanks again for all your reviews!

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Tony woke with a start and winced. A sharp, full-body ache pounded against his skin with any movement. He stared at the ceiling, carefully flexing each extremity starting with his feet. Everything moved the way it should and the pain wasn't too extreme with any specific motion, so he was certain it was only bruising.

He was shocked he was still in one piece considering how Scorn's pets ripped the armor off him. He'd fought them with his bare fists when he had nothing else, until one of them hit him over the head. At least, he thought he'd been hit on the head. That part was a little fuzzy. The sore tissue on the back of his skull reinforced the idea.

Rhodes was going to kill him over War Machine. Even promising to make him another suit wasn't going to quell the air force colonel's anger. Tony had tried to replace it in the past, but Rhodey liked the original the best. Never one for sentiment, Tony didn't understand it.

When Tony tried to sit up, restraints tightened at his wrists. He craned his neck to see them. They were thick, leather straps with buckles in the center. Deciding how to get them undone faded into the back of his mind when he noticed all the wires hooked into the arc reactor.

The thin, sleeveless shirt he'd been wearing to work on War Machine was pushed up by his collarbones, leaving his chest exposed. His glass cover for the arc was missing, and wires cut across both pectorals and disappeared between the casing and the reactor itself. He followed the lines to a monitor that was recording the output. His levels looked good, considering the beating he'd taken, but he knew what the readouts meant. Scorn was going to try to replicate it.

Tony pulled at the restraints, wishing he had the same brute strength as his teammates. When they wouldn't give, he thunked his head onto the table and groaned at the bright explosion of fire from the spot where he'd been hit. Tony closed his eyes against the swell of dizziness that followed.

Thinking of his team made him think of Steve. He was going to be livid, not because Tony had been caught, but because he went alone. The Captain was probably losing his mind right now. Remorse tore at Tony's insides.

"It is a truly beautiful achievement."

From the sound of her voice, Tony could tell Scorn was somewhere behind him, but he didn't bother to look for her. He knew he couldn't twist his head into the right angle. He replied snidely, "Everything I make is an achievement. You should see how many awards I have piled in the hall closet. Pretty sure there are a few Nobel's in there if you want one."

Scorn's heels clicked around to his side. When she'd been standing silently for several moments, Tony finally opened his eyes. Scorn put her hands above his shoulders, her hair draping around them like a curtain, blocking out the overhead lights. The reactor swathed them in a cool glow. She was close enough that the green and gold flecks in her dark irises caught Tony's attention. He clenched his teeth, praying that she wasn't planning on kissing him. If he had to talk his way out of lip-gloss, things were going to be even harder with Steve.

"I'm taken, so all of this stalking and entrapment is unnecessary, but I do know a good therapist that can help you work through your desperation issues."

Scorn's face remained blank at the comment. She shifted her weight to one arm and ran her fingers through his hair, "It's lonely being as brilliant as we are. No one truly understands the workings of a mind like Einstein, or Tesla, or Stark."

"We?" Tony arched one brow, trying to provoke her into revealing more. "I'm sorry, did we join Mensa together and I missed it?"

She chuckled softly and ran a thumb over his cheek, the fleshy pad catching on the stubble he hadn't gotten the chance to shave. Usually personal grooming was a top priority for him, but he'd been a little busy. The closeness was making him twitchy. He turned his face to the side to get away from the touch.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" Scorn asked. "I didn't think a man of your reputation could ever be uncomfortable around a woman, or a man, for that matter." Her hand trailed down his throat, past his shirt and Steve's tags, and swirled tenderly over the edge of the arc.

Knowing she wanted a knee-jerk reaction from him, Tony forced a tight smile, "I've been around the block. If you're looking for a free handout, I'm afraid I ran through those a couple of years ago. I think any one of your buddies outside would be happy to-"

Scorn's eyes went to slits and she nudged two of the lines together. They created a mini surge that bolted through his chest, sending his heart into arrhythmia. Tony gasped and involuntarily jerked against the restraints. His back came up off the table as his heart pounded so hard he swore it was going to break through his ribcage. When it slowed, he dropped, boneless and sweating. His glare was weak, but as acidic as he could manage.

"There now, that's better. You tongue is very sharp, Mr. Stark, but you forget that you're not the one holding the cards." Scorn sat up and slid her mass of hair to one shoulder. It ran down her front like black blood. "Your suits are going to prove to be a useful asset. When Iron Man suddenly turns on his own nation, who else will respond but your Avengers?"

Tony could see the edges of her plan. From the train and the tower, he'd learned that she loved large, disastrous distractions and getting his suits running would be a very big distraction, especially if no one knew it wasn't him. While they were fighting with a false Iron Man, she'd be doing something unspeakable with her collection of juiced up convicts. Tony didn't appreciate where the idea led him. A lot of people were going to get killed if they couldn't stop her.

Scorn went to the computer and paged through some of the readouts. While her back was turned, Tony twisted his hands around in the leather restraints. He opened and closed his fists to loosen them, but nothing was working. Before he could get them to budge, Scorn straightened and went to the cell door.

Knocking twice, she cast one more look at him and said, "When they bring your boyfriend in, I'll make sure you get to room together. I'm sure you two will want to get a little fucking in before I drain him."

Tony stopped breathing when he understood what she meant. The only thing she would still need for the serum was in Steve's blood. She would've had to replicate the blood she'd stolen from the tower to make the creatures Tony faced already, but that would only get her so far. The stabilizer was Steve.

"This has nothing to do with me, you're waiting for him," the statement passed through his mouth as the fact formed in his mind.

The raven-haired woman didn't turn while she waited for the guard outside, speaking to the wall, "I'm never one to waste my resources, but yes. With you here, he'll come running like the faithful hound he is."

"I don't think you realize how bad that idea is."

"I'm nothing if not prepared, Mr. Stark. I know exactly what to expect from your companions now that we've seen them in action."

Tony's brow pinched at the enigmatic words, but he didn't ask. The lock disengaged with the rusted screech of metal on metal and the scruffy gatekeeper stepped back to let Scorn through. As she left the cell, a very large man came in to take her place. Tony had to look up at almost everyone, but he was fairly certain that even standing, he'd have to crane his neck to see the man's broad face.

Scorn pet his arm in passing, "Make sure he stays here."

"No problem," the giant said, his voice in a timber so deep that he had to be mainlining sulfur hexafluoride. It was the only gas that could make someone sound like a chronic smoker, the best trick besides sucking the helium out of the birthday balloons when the party's gone to hell.

The door slammed shut behind Scorn, leaving Tony with the dark-skinned colossus. Crossing his arms over his considerable chest, the man rooted himself in front of the doorway as if Tony was going to test him bound up like a patient in a psyche ward. His arms were thick with muscle, made more apparent by the position. The tattoos on his skin were from some gang Tony wasn't familiar with. If the guy had gotten as far as college, he would've made a hell of an athlete, but his life had gotten derailed at some point.

Feeling something warm and wet slide down his wrist, Tony quit pulling at the bindings. He was going to need some leverage to get out, and he was looking right at it, "Did your mother breast-feed you growth hormones, or did your boss give you some steroids? You do know that those can cause some-" Tony made a face, "problems with your packaging."

"You're a little man with a big mouth. Where I grew up, that got you killed," the giant said plainly, but with the gravelly undertone of aggravation.

Tony could believe that and he was beginning to think it was the direction he was headed in, but he had to free himself before Steve came charging into trap handcrafted for him. He couldn't have long before that happened. It would've taken SHIELD an hour at the most to get through the guards on the search he'd performed, and maybe another twenty or thirty minutes for the team to reroute from their mission in Kentucky. Tony didn't know how long he'd been unconscious, but he suspected he only had precious minutes to get out if he was going to save the others.

"When you're as intelligent as I am, you can afford to have a big mouth. I think there's a baseline for it though, and IQ of one-sixty and above. Anywhere below that you should probably think twice before you say something." Tony wasn't sure how much he'd have to prod the colossus to get him to engage. There were dozens of variables, but the only result he was interested in was getting the big man fighting mad. "You probably drop in at eighty? Ninety? One hundred is average, so don't feel bad. Though, your steroids might cut a few of your points."

Steely blue-gray eyes fixed on him and the tendon in the man's square jaw ticked. Tony wasn't looking forward to the snap. It was going to hurt.

He pressed on, "I'm sorry, is it not steroids? What are the kids doing these days? Heroin, coke? Or were you a seller? Is that what landed you in jail where you met all of your new friends? I bet your mother was proud."

When his nostrils flared and he lifted his chin, Tony knew he'd found an exposed nerve. The guy was young, barely in his twenties. If Scorn scooped him out of prison for this and he was eager to leave, he had a long sentence left. No doubt his mother's disappointment was extreme, and he was young enough to care.

"Did she come to your hearing? Let's face it, no mother ever thinks her child is capable. Unless it wasn't your first time. After the three strikes thing kicks in, you'd think she'd learn," every edged word made the guard's anger mount higher and higher. Tony could see veins pulsing on the tense fold of his arms. Another good push would send him over the edge. "Did she send you care packages with lube?"

"Shut. The fuck. Up."

Tony snarled, "Why don't you make me? I chew up guys like you for my morning workout; I'd send you crying back to your daddy. Now, is he in the White Supremacists or the-"

It only took two steps for the giant to cross the room and clamp a hand around Tony's throat. Not the response Tony was fishing for, it took him by surprise. The man's thick fingers were long enough that they nearly met at the nape of Tony's neck. When they tightened, the index finger and thumb touched.

Tony tried to gasp through his constricted windpipe, his tennis shoes scraping wildly against the table as he struggled. The man jerked him up so the bindings snapped against his wrists. The straps holding him vibrated with the force of it, thrumming like a plucked harp-string. His lungs burned and his eyes drifted back into his skull. He could feel the pull of the wires in his chest. They sparked hotly as they shifted positions.

"You really wanna know how I got canned? It was murder in the first degree, and if you don't shut your cock-sucking mouth, you're gonna find out exactly what I did to him," was exhaled low and dangerous against his face.

The hand disappeared and Tony fell back onto the table, dragging air into his deprived lungs so quickly it made him lightheaded. He turned his wrists in the cuffs. His flesh was raw, but the bindings were loose. Folding his thumb into his palm, he pulled until he felt it give. He blinked furiously to clear his vision and reached across his body to rip the other restraint open.

The soft click of the buckle caught the convict's attention. He lunged towards Tony, but Tony was faster. He flipped off the far side of the slab and grabbed the cords dangling from his body with both hands, tearing them out of the monitor. Wrapping up the insulated part of the line, he circled the furniture to avoid the convict. Tony took hold of the electrified line right were the rubber disappeared and the live wire started.

With a roar, the convict tossed the table out of the way, barely missing Tony. He dove at him once there was nothing between them. Baring his teeth, Tony ducked under the reaching hands and jammed the end of the wires against his chest. Three million kilowatts streaked through the convict's body from the reactor. His massive frame convulsed sporadically and blood ruptured from his ears and the corners of his eyes. When the smell of burning flesh hit him, Tony stumbled away.

The giant crumpled slowly, his muscles still tensing with the aftershocks. Tony dropped the insulated line as the dead man hit the floor, staring blankly his own blistered wrists. Swallowing made him wince and he gingerly touched the tender flesh at his throat. The bruise was undoubtedly in the shape of a hand. It would be difficult to explain away.

Tony shook his close call and yanked the wires out of his reactor. He found the arc's cover on the cart with the computer equipment. Snapping it in place, Tony adjusted his shirt and went over to listen at the door. There was movement outside.

A shuffling step approached and then a shout came through, "Jamal, man, what's going on?"

Tony pressed his back against the wall.

"Hey, puta! Answer me." There was a pause, and the voice reminded Jamal, "If you're doing something nasty to him, you know she's going to be pissed."

Eyebrows going up, Tony decided he could jump on that. He made a pained groan that was almost too filthy. It would've made Steve blush purple. Lewd as it was, it worked. The rusty, metallic screech of the lock permeated the room and the door opened. A bulldog of a man entered, spitting curse words in Spanish.

"Madre de Dios, man! What the hell are you-"

Tony caught him in the Adam's apple with his elbow and anything else the man had to say came out as a gurgle. Tony's shoes lost traction on the smooth cement as he ran into the hall, forcing him to grab the door to stay standing. He pushed it shut and slammed the bolt home.

The long hallway was empty, for which Tony was grateful. He peered in both directions. There were cell doors like the one he'd come through spaced evenly down each side, numbering somewhere in the thirties or forties. They all had notes scribbled on the flecking white paint. Tony got the gist of it after reading only a few doors. Experiment failed, terminate. Experiment failed, draw blood and terminate. Experiment failed…

The agonizing cries that filtered through the thick doors made Tony shudder. He didn't need to explore to know what he'd find, half-changed madmen that were being crushed under the weight of their undesired mutations. There wouldn't be a way to help them. A bullet would be mercy. He went from a walk to a sprint in his hurry to get away.

At the end of the hall, Tony slowed. There was nothing to hide him but the lip of the doorway. The double doors that had once blocked off the cells from the rest of the warehouse were gone and only the twisted hinges remained. To Tony's benefit, the gaping entryway faced a bank of employee lockers so no one had seen him yet. Leaning against the frame, Tony slid into a crouch and peered out.

There were several dozen men moving in teams in the receiving bay. Some were loading military containers onto a number of trucks, well-armed men getting in with the equipment. The stenciling on the sides made Tony extremely uneasy. There were boxes of M-16 rifles and nerve gas and enough C4 to level a city block. Other semis were being filled with medical supplies.

At first, Tony couldn't figure out why they would bring all the supplies in only to reload and ship it out again the same day, but watching them move, he figured it out. Scorn was covering her ass. If Steve and the others arrived and didn't go down the way she was planning, she would lose everything. By sending out her equipment, she ensured the survival of the operation. Tony had to stop them before the trucks left the warehouse.

Moving forward in a crouch, Tony took cover behind a line of cargo. He wasn't made for espionage, so every time someone came close, Tony tensed and curled into the smallest shape he could manage. He'd only keep going after they'd left, swearing he needed to take some lessons from Natasha.

A guy in a bright blue jumpsuit picked up a crate ahead of him, leaving a gap in his cover. Tony exhaled, "Great," and slid all the way to the edge of the opening. From his new position, he could see Scorn standing in the middle of the organized chaos. She must have given out all the orders already, because she was only watching her men swarm around like ants. As she turned her head in his direction, Tony jerked behind a stack of plastic containers. When no one started shouting and he wasn't dragged out of his hiding place, Tony assumed she didn't see him.

Waiting until an opportune moment was next to impossible with so many men working around him, so Tony held his breath and darted across the gap. He kept moving after that, wanting to get to the military supplies before they were all gone. There was a pile of metal cases in the corner of the warehouse with the markings he was looking for. Tony flicked open the latches, eyes constantly scanning the area as he removed several gray, clay-like bricks. He slipped his shirt off and stacked as many of them as he could on the stained material. On the way back, he grabbed a small box of blasting caps and a detonator.

Blood rushing through his ears, Tony slapped one of the C4 bricks on a support beam by the weapons' shipment. It took him several seconds to get the blasting cap armed, every one of them dragging by like an eternity. Tony checked the remote detonator to make sure it received the activation and kept going.

Once he was in the prison wing, he picked up his speed. He set up two bombs on the way down the hall and ran deeper into the warehouse. The next hall looked remarkably similar to the cellblock, but had narrow windows in the middle of the doors. Tony approached the first carefully, looking through the dark glass. The room was empty, just a few scraps of brown packing paper on the bare floor. The next was a laboratory with no one in it. Tony pushed his second to last C4 brick against the window and slid the thin blasting caps into place. The little green LED on the top of the detonator flashed to confirm that it was armed.

Tony rounded a corner and very nearly walked into the path of a convict carrying an AK-47. Panic rushed his system, but his instincts kicked in as the stout, bald man spotted him. Tony darted in close and knocked the gun aside with his palm as the barrel came up. Smacking his solar plexus forced the air from the guard's chest and ensured that he wouldn't shout for backup. When the man stumbled away, Tony swung the shirt around with the last brick of explosive in it and hit him on the glossy crown of his head. The man went down like marionette without strings.

He knelt and picked up the gun. It would be too loud to use unless he was really desperate, but he preferred to be prepared. As he was standing, the man on the ground twitched. Tony tightened his grip on the rifle, realizing that it probably wouldn't do him much good. A loud, inhuman groan echoed through the hallway and the convict's muscles bulged everywhere. Swelling rapidly, the man's skin flushed an ashy crimson as he ripped through his shirt.

Tony didn't wait for him to finish. He ran, pushing through the only door where the hall dead-ended. The bolt was on the inside, so Tony locked it and backed away. It wouldn't hold against one hit from one of Banner's monsters. His mind raced. The gun wouldn't do anything since bullets were only bee-stings and the plastic explosive would certainly kill him too. The deafening roar made Tony drop the rifle. It clattered on the cement.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Tony muttered and turned to examine his surroundings.

A huge grin surged onto his face at the sight of eight, human-length boxes lined up along the back of the room. Leaving the last brick of C4 and the detonator on the ground, Tony rushed to the boxes. He threw the lid off the first one he came to. It was MARK III, one of the suits he needed equipment to get into. The thing outside rammed the door and the metal bent sharply. Shockingly, the bolt held. Tony pushed open two of the other crates, uncovering MARK I, which was useless, and MARK IV, which was too damaged to use.

"Come on!" Tony shouted.

An arm with a ham-sized fist grabbed the bent door and wrenched it out of the frame. The red hulk tossed the chunk of metal like it was a plastic Frisbee, and reached into the room. His massive, bulky shoulders wedged in the narrow opening. The thing's face twisted with rage and it howled fiercely.

Tony kicked the lid off one of the remaining boxes and whooped, "Yeah baby! Daddy's never been so happy to see you!"

He got his electronic bracelets close to the MARK VII and the suit lit up and started to hum. The brushed gold titanium attached at his wrists first, opening up to engulf him with thousands of micro clicks as the pieces snapped into place. Praying that Jane had gotten Jarvis online, Tony lifted his chin so the helmet could close around his jaw. The faceplate banged down just as the burgundy abomination ripped the doorframe out of the wall.

The heads up display came up instantly, so the system was at least partially downloaded. Tony put his target in the middle of the creature's head and fired a high payload missile. The explosion was small, but powerful. Blood and brain matter splashed across the ceiling and walls when the monster's skull disintegrated. Tony scooped up the detonator before the body could fall on it. The suit picked up the detonation frequency and stored it so Tony could shut down the smaller device.

Putting his thrusters on low, he sped through the maze of hallways to get back to the warehouse. There wasn't any flight data, so Tony had to fly by feel. The control surfaces reacted to his movements and the way he shifted his weight. It wasn't easy and he scraped against a wall as he took the corner, sending bits of plaster and old paint into a fine cloud behind him, but being in the suits had become second nature to him. As long as he had power and weapons, he was satisfied.

Tony flashed out into the shipping bay, staying in the air. The trucks were gone. There were still enough men left to handle the team, but all of the cargo was gone. Every one of the convicts looked up at Tony. He knew he'd have to be careful not to get overwhelmed again, but being in his own suit made a huge difference in his firepower. He let Rhodey have his delusions, but War Machine wasn't up to par with Iron Man.

"Any of you up for round two?" he called, the covers coming off his weapons to expose more armaments than the gang members and murderers had probably ever seen before.

Two of them opened fire, the bullets pinging off his armor. None of the others bothered. They started stripping off gear in preparation to change. Tony set his cross hairs on twelve of them and let loose a volley of projectiles. Only half of them went down, the rest burst into their newly acquired forms.

Something tackled him from behind. He slammed against the floor with a grunt, using a boost of power from his boots to get out of the way before a second hit could come down on him. He crashed into one that had a bushy Mohawk, knocking the thing on his ass. He pushed his hand against the center of the thing's chest and transferred all of the reactor's power into his palm. The blast simultaneously shot him into the air and left a smoking crater where the abomination's heart should've been.

Hands of all shapes and colors reached for him. There were still so many. Tony wasn't sure if he was killing any of them. He cut his thrusters and landed in the middle of them, booting up the ionized lasers on top of his wrists. The glowing beams shot into the crowd as they converged on him. Tony spun in a rapid circle, going into a crouch to maximize how much damage he caused. The cartridges ejected automatically when they ran out of energy.

Those closest to him dropped in pieces, but more came from behind them. Tony's eyes went wide. There should have been more dead. The lasers should've killed everything in the room and cut into the surrounding walls. They were definitely as tough as Banner, who Tony was going to destroy the next time he saw him. If he saw him.

They swarmed towards him and Tony pulled up the detonation frequency for the C4. If he couldn't cut them down, then he could certainly bury them.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Steve went from one corner of the jet to the other and back again. He'd been pacing since lift off, too anxious to sit still. It had taken too long for Fury to get the coordinates. They wouldn't be able to intercept Tony, they'd be lucky if they go to him before he died. It was Tony's firewalls that had held things up. There was irony in there that Steve didn't think was the least bit amusing.

A cross between a growl and a groan rolled in the back of Steve's throat before he shouted, "What's our ETA?"

It was the third time he'd asked and Natasha and Clint traded glances. Despite his wound, the archer insisted on coming with them. He'd practically had to fight off the medical crew to board the jet, though he'd allowed them to finish bandaging him first.

"ETA ten minutes, sir," the pilot responded.

"Get us there in five."

Steve knew he should have better control on himself, that this was why interoffice relationships were officially banned in SHIELD (though Fury turned his blind eye to Black Widow and Hawkeye because they were very good at keeping emotion out of their work). The director had pulled Steve and Tony aside when they'd first started dating to explain the rule and Tony promptly offered to quit. Fury didn't bring it up again.

"Steve, you're freaking everybody out," Clint told him, as blunt as always.

Thor frowned and set the head of his hammer on his knee, "I'm sorry, what does it mean to be 'freaked out'?"

"Weirded out," At Thor's blank stare, Clint added, "Uh, disturbed?"

"Ah, I understand now. With all of the circumstances considered, Steve is permitted to freak out. I would be inconsolable if something were to harm Jane."

The conversation was a hum outside of Steve's awareness. He couldn't focus on them when his thoughts were so loud. He kept telling himself that Tony was strong. Some of the enemies Iron Man had faced alone were as powerful as those they'd faced as a team, but knowing that did nothing to settle Steve's nerves. This came too close to previous experience. Like before, Steve was too far away to save him. Whether it was a distance of feet or miles, he was too far.

With a frustrated shout, Steve threw a punch into the thick metal wall of the plane. The bang was louder than mortar fire, killing the other discussions. The ache in his knuckles helped ground him. Letting the air out of his lungs slowly, Steve flattened his hand on the dent. He could feel the team watching him.

"Steve…" Natasha started.

Steve turned and settled into the analytical mindset of battle tactics. It was the only escape he had, "We know they have more of those things, so we don't want to get cornered inside a building. We'll have to draw them out. I want the jet in the air and I want Clint on the loading ramp. Shooting them in the eye seems to work, so stick with that."

"Yes, sir," Clint answered automatically.

He looked at the others, his eyes narrowing as they passed over Banner. The doctor winced as if Steve had moved to hit him. Steve ordered, "Do whatever you have to do to draw them out. I'll go in to find Tony and will alert you when we're clear."

"Captain," the pilot yelled into the back. "We just got a report in from Agent Hill, they caught up with the transport that took the law enforcement from the scene."

Steve tightened his grip on his shield, asking out of duty, "Do they need assistance?"

"No, sir. They've got it handled. Our ETA is two minutes, sir."

Steve was a little ashamed by his relief. If they had needed him, he would've gone, but he would've done so begrudgingly. Tony had very quickly become his highest priority and Steve didn't think there was anything he could do about it. He was wired that way, always had been. He had to protect the ones he loved at any cost, now maybe more so than before. Steve knew that Bucky's death had made him worse on that front.

When the pilot called out sixty seconds, Steve opened the loading ramp. Bruce was suddenly at his elbow, shouting over the noise, "Steve, listen. I'm sorry about all this. I really didn't mean to cause these kinds of problems. I just wanted to… to make it better."

Steve couldn't forgive him. Not yet. Not while Tony was still in danger. He grabbed a parachute out of the rack by the door and started strapping it on. Too mad to look the doctor in the eye, he kept his attention on his work when he answered, "We'll talk about it when this is over."

The plane decelerated and the rotating turbines turned so that they could hover over a large building with a hole in the roof. Through the puncture, Steve caught the white-blue flash of Tony's energy blasts. They were too high to see anything else, but at least Tony was alive. It did mean that he'd engaged the hostiles and their original plan wasn't going to work.

Steve turned to bark out new instructions and the building beneath them exploded. The resulting fireball roiled upward, forcing the pilot to take evasive maneuvers. The engines roared as he pushed them into full power. They shot into the sky, putting massive g-force on those inside. Steve grabbed the handhold numbly.

As the blast wave hit him, he was able to process what had happened. "Tony!" Steve screamed, running for the end of the ramp. Arms plated in silver grabbed him from behind and Thor said something he didn't hear. He fought against him, needing to go to him, to see…

Thor tightened his grip and shouted, "No, you cannot survive the fire!"

"Tony!" he wailed again, feeling his world shatter.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

TBC…

Yes, I'm mean… I'm sorry. I couldn't go into the next scene without this chapter getting REALLY long. I swear I'll have the next one up soon.


	10. Mortal Body, Wounded Heart

The shockwave from the closest explosion knocked Tony to the ground and a massive body fell over him. Fire and debris filled the room. As the other bombs detonated, the warehouse seemed to groan. The ceiling collapsed in on itself, pieces of support beam and cement rained on the creatures left standing.

Warnings blinked all over his HUD. There was damage to the plating on his back and the weight of the dead abomination was putting more pressure on the metal than it was designed to handle. With the warehouse coming down around his ears, Tony scrambled and shoved to get out from under the body. He managed to get his arms loose. Digging the tips of his fingers into the concrete, he hauled himself forward. The powered components of his suit whined with the strain.

Even through his armor, he could feel the heat of the blaze around him. Sweat rolled into his eyes, making him blink furiously. Putting the boots on full burn would just set fire to the hulk of flesh and there was enough on fire already in this hellhole.

A chunk of ceiling broke across his shoulders and he clanked face-first against the ground. He needed to get out or get buried alive with Scorn's pets. With a shout, he converted the arc's power to the chest cannon. It blasted him end over end. He shot his thrusters in short bursts to stop his spinning freefall and barely managed to fly out of the way as another a-line support beam collapsed.

He blasted through the roof, crowing when he reached the open sky. As the euphoria faded, he remembered that he had no flight data. There was no horizon line on his visor, no global positioning. He was flying completely blind. The visual monitor was still adjusting to the sudden change in light input, so he didn't have a view of his surroundings either.

"Jarvis! Upload flight matrix! Jarvis!"

A proximity warning blared in his ear and he clipped something metal. He thought it might've been a helicopter and he hoped he hadn't done enough damage to make it crash. Whatever it was, it wrecked his flight path. Tony spun wildly, not even sure which way was up.

A stream of data suddenly swarmed his screen and a thin blue line flared to life to mark the horizon. He righted himself, holding his palms flat so he could hover. With a smile, he said, "Good to have you back, Jarvis."

The voice that answered him was familiar, but definitely female, "Good to be back, sir."

"Jane? Why do you have Jane's voice?"

"The previous vocal patterns were corrupted and Ms. Foster had to re-record them."

"Unbelievable."

That was not going to work for Tony. He addressed Jarvis at some incredibly awkward times and having Jane's voice respond would bother him. Well, he had almost no shame, so it would only bother him a little. He'd have to bring someone in to do new vocals when he got the chance. He wondered if the original actor he used ten years ago was still floating around in England.

The visor cleared and his system recognized the shape in the air beside him. Jarvis outlined it with a wireframe and dropped some stats out by the corner of his eye. Tony circled the SHIELD jet, relieved to find the loading ramp open. He didn't figure anyone would hear him knocking.

Landing on his feet, he tilted his head slightly at the scene he came upon. Thor had his gigantic arms wrapped around Steve's chest from behind and all of the others were on their feet, clustered around Steve as if he was about to do something stupid. The super soldier stared at him with shock written across his face.

Tony raised an eyebrow that no one could see behind his mask and said, "So glad you all could join me. Party's over though, time to go out for drinks." When no one moved or laughed, Tony tried again, "Honey, I'm home. I brought back bacon and dead bad guys."

His expression going oddly blank, Steve yanked out of Thor's grasp and crossed the ramp to him. Tony was expecting a bear hug, but what he got was a punch to Iron Man's jaw. It didn't hurt, but made him stumble to one side. Flipping up his visor, Tony growled, "What the hell, Steve?"

"This is not a joke!" the soldier shouted and shoved his mask off his face. "What were you thinking?"

"I needed to get my-"

"You went alone! And you blocked the search so no one could follow you, why would you do that?"

There was so much pain and anger in the tense lines of Steve's face that Tony's gut twisted. He hadn't meant to leave Steve in the dark, he'd only covered his tracks to keep Fury out of his business. Thinking back, it hadn't been the best decision. Tony was used to handling things on his own. Even with a team at his back, he was still jumping into action alone. He knew it was something he needed to work on.

Looking at Natasha's crossed arms and her blatant disapproval and the concerned slope of Bruce's brow, Tony decided to bypass the impending argument and focus on work, "Look, the base is down, but they got away in six or seven trucks. We're going to need to get a satellite in position to get some live feed of the area. Maybe we can still track them. My suits are also buried in that mess, so if we could get a cleanup crew in here to dig them out, that would be great." He directed his next question at Natasha, "The woman in charge is named Scorn, ring any bells?"

The spy shook her head, "I'd need her real name."

"She's kind of short," Tony held out a hand to indicate her height in the air, "Black hair, dark eyes with some green in them, gigantic chip on her shoulder…"

"Land," Steve ordered suddenly. The Captain stripped off his parachute and threw it at the shelf where it belonged. It bounced against another chute with some force, falling over the rail and onto the seat. Icy eyes fixed on Tony when Steve said, "Tony and I need to talk."

Tony winced dramatically for the benefit of the others, though his mind screamed that they were about to have a game-changing fight and it wasn't funny. His smile was weak, "Geez, am I in that much trouble? I got the job done, everything is fine, I'm fine. Nothing to worry about."

Steve set his jaw and turned away from him, his shoulders a solid block of tension. As the soldier stalked into the cockpit, Tony let out a long exhale through his nose. Wringing his hands as he always did with things were escalating, Bruce slid up next to him while Clint closed the back door. The doctor had to stop the motion to hold up his shredded pants as they started sliding off his body. Their battle must've been intense if Steve would risk using the Hulk.

There was more gray hair at Bruce's temple. Tony wondered if it was there when he showed up for the beginning of this fiasco, or if had formed somewhere in the middle of it. Despite the magnificent mistakes Banner had made in the last few days, he was still one of the few people Tony counted as a friend. Tony had made more than a few imprudent decisions in the name of science in his lifetime, so he understood why Bruce had done it. With Steve pissed at him, Tony didn't feel like fighting with Bruce too.

"He thought you'd died… we all thought you'd died," Bruce told him softly.

Tony looked around at the team, at their haggard expressions. Natasha was glaring at him in a way that said she blamed him for everything, though her archer boy toy was refusing to look at anything. Thor just seemed disappointed and Tony wasn't sure whether it was because of him or because he got deprived of a good brawl.

Rolling his eyes towards Bruce, Tony groaned, "You all know I'm a capable of fighting my own battles, right? This isn't like high school where I needed to be rescued from my locker."

"With mutual companionship comes a higher form of duty and responsibility," Thor scolded, pointing to the cockpit with one meaty arm. "Your recklessness has wounded Steve."

The disappointment wasn't about the battle then. Tony couldn't believe they were ganging up on him over this. The only one that seemed amused by it was Clint. The archer smirked as he asked, "You used to get shoved in your locker?"

"I was nine," Tony scowled.

"In high school?"

Bruce perked up and said, "I graduated high school at fourteen."

Natasha tossed her hands in the air with an exasperated sigh, "Enough." Shoving her way between them, she physically separated Bruce and Tony and growled at the doctor, "You, sit down. Clint, shut up. And you," she hooked her fingers in the groove between the chest plate and neck of Tony's suit and jerked him down so they were eye to eye, "You're going to fix this with Steve or I'm going to castrate you in your sleep."

Tony's eyebrows went up, but he didn't have an answer before the jet settled on the ground. The back door hissed open automatically and Steve came out of the cockpit with his commander attitude in place, "Natasha, I want you to get on the line with Fury and tell him about the trucks. They can be tracking them. Thor, you and Bruce do a perimeter sweep to make sure there aren't any hulked out survivors about to jump on us. Clint, stay off that leg." He bumped Tony's shoulder as he walked by, demanded in a low tone, "Come on."

Tony trailed after him, feeling a bit like the dog that ripped up the couch. There was a rolled up newspaper in his future and he'd rather go back into the burning warehouse than face it. He reminded himself that he knew Steve would be upset, but this wasn't upset, this was angry, pissed, furious. If he didn't know better, Tony would worry he was about to get smacked around. The hit in the plane was different. Steve knew the Iron Man suit would protect him.

The jet had landed at the edge of the warehouse lots, far enough away that it wouldn't get damaged if there was another explosion. Steve passed through the debris-filled driveways, walking several steps ahead of Tony. Aside from the crackle of the fire, the only sound in the area was the loud clanging of Tony's boots on the cement. The light of the blaze painted everything with reds and made their shadows stretch across the earth as if they were giants.

Tony didn't feel much like a giant at the moment. His heart was pounding and his stomach sent enough acid to the back of his throat to make him think he was going to have to stop and puke. He'd screwed up so many relationships in his life the he knew this could very well be the beginning of the end. He'd done the one thing Steve couldn't handle.

They crossed the street to a small, brick building with a For Lease sign planted in the dead grass. Tony held in his joke about breaking and entering as Steve snapped the chain wrapped around the door handles and led him inside. The entryway was a dusty reception area with a built-in counter that had a gang tag sprayed across it. The rest of the room was bare and dark. The billboard lease sign blocked out most of the firelight, so all they had was the glow of Tony's chest.

Steve propped his shield against the wall and ran a gloved hand through his hair. His mouth twisted off to one side, and then narrowed into a grimace as he moved aimlessly around the room. He wouldn't look at Tony directly, his hands clenching and unclenching as he paced.

While Steve gathered his thoughts, Tony touched the pressure release under the bottom edge of his helmet. It expanded with a soft hum and he lifted it over his head. Setting the helm on the long desk, Tony broke the aggravating silence, "I should've waited for the team, I know, but-"

Steve whirled on him, "You could've gotten killed."

"Kind of comes with the job description," Tony sighed.

"No," his tone dropped to treacherous lows, barely above a whisper but more impactful than if he'd been screaming, "No, taking ridiculous, stupid risks is not in the job description."

"It kind of is…"

"Tony! You can't do that!"

Tony took a step back, his brow dipping. 'Can't' wasn't a word he liked. When someone told him he couldn't do something, he revolted against it with every fiber of his being. He knew Steve had the right to be angry, but he couldn't stop his own rage from bubbling up, hot and seething.

"You don't make my decisions for me, big guy. My suits are part of me, and I wasn't going to sit on my ass while the rest of you got around to hunting them down. I saw an opportunity, so I took it," he snarled, coming forward to get in Steve's face.

The front of his suit bumped against the star on Steve's chest, illuminating it brilliantly. With the added inches of rockets underfoot, he and Steve were the same height. It helped give his glare a little more power when he didn't have to peer up at him. Neither spoke for a moment, but Tony could practically feel Steve's rising anger burning through his skin.

"I guess me sleeping with you on an extremely regular basis has no bearing on you or what you want to do," Steve said darkly. "After all, we all know what they say about Tony Stark and his sex life."

Tony shoved him. Hard. Steve stumbled, his hand going back to brace himself against the wall. The sheetrock behind him cracked when he hit, splitting from floor to ceiling. Tony met Steve's eyes when the soldier looked up, barely keeping his voice even, "Yes, because I was a playboy I must not give a shit about you. Is that it? I've just been letting you fuck me for half a year because it's convenient."

Steve pushed off the wall, "You sure act like it. Don't you get it? I thought I lost you and you show up like it's not an issue. You make a joke out of everything."

"There was no telling how long my suits were going to-"

"Then you should've contacted me! You should've taken backup!" Steve shouted, gesturing widely in the direction of the jet and their team members.

"Fury would've-"

"He would've told you not to go because War Machine wasn't combat ready! And he would've been right to do so."

Getting interrupted every time he spoke was trying Tony's last nerve. Instead of letting Steve talk over him, he started getting louder, "Fury isn't my goddamn babysitter. If I thought the suit was ready, then who the hell is he to tell me otherwise?"

Their shouts merged as Steve yelled, "The man has a good head on his shoulders, better than you, apparently! You should be listening to him!"

"So I should be the perfectly obedient soldier like you? Blind obedience probably came with your injection, just like your strength and your balls. Were you a eunuch before the program, or a girl?" The hateful words spilled out of him like toxic chemicals, uncontrollable.

Steve narrowed his eyes, "Better than what you were. How many diseases do you have named after you, Stark?"

"Unlike you, I know what a condom's really for. Besides, I have high standards. Movie stars, models… I guess that explains why I kept you around so long. No one can make a sexier man than the US military. Too bad they couldn't jump start your brain while they were in there."

Steve straightened up and closed his mouth. Tony didn't think he'd ever seen him so mad. Tony hated this. They argued a lot, but this wasn't the same. This was a bare-knuckle boxing match with words. It made his chest ache. He wanted to break down and apologize. To let it all slide away so they could kiss and find comfort in the fact that they were both alive after a horrendous night, but his pride wouldn't let him.

When Steve turned and walked away, Tony thought they were done, until Steve picked up his helmet from the counter. He came back and shoved it down over Tony's head. The helmet resealed. As it booted up and the HUD flared to life, Tony saw Steve's red, gloved fist careening towards his chest. He didn't have time to block it.

The blow hit him like a train. Tony came off his feet and hung in the air for a full second before he slammed into the floor. Damage readouts in the color of blood crawled through his vision as he stared at the ceiling. "Okay," he hissed and got to his feet.

Steve already had his shield in hand and his mask pulled into place, as if Tony was just another enemy. Knowing Steve would deflect any repulsion energy he threw at him, Tony took two bounding steps and leapt into the air, coming down on him with his fists. His first hit rang off the spangled piece of vibranium. Tony grabbed the shield and yanked it back to get at Steve, but the soldier checked the side of his head with an elbow. Before Tony could recover from the blow, the Captain brought his shield around and hit him in the shoulder.

Tony flew sideways into the reception desk. The heavy marble top shattered underneath him and he had to shake off the rubble as he got up. He rotated his head to get a look at Steve, his lip curling. Every powerful emotion he had for the man was exploding into something ugly and furious. The change wrenched him in half. Part of him still wanted to fix things, but it was the weaker half that was easily overtaken.

With a shout, Tony dove at him again. He knocked Steve's shield aside and turned on his thrusters at the last moment, tackling him. They went through the same wall they'd damaged earlier. Releasing his grip, Tony let the tumbling fall separate them and got to one knee. Steve coughed and propped himself up on his elbow, glaring at Tony through the cloud of drywall powder hanging between them. The gleam of Tony's eyes and chest lit up the falling particles like fireflies, making the dust motes flash as they drifted.

The space they'd crashed into was an empty industrial factory. There were a few scattered pieces of equipment that were too big and too old to move, so the previous owner presumably left let them rust where they were. Most of the room was barren, spotted every so often by a support column. There was graffiti everywhere, even across the cracked skylights two stories above them. Beer bottles and food trash gathered in small mounds in the corners, almost entirely hidden in the darkness.

Tony and Steve both noticed that the Captain's shield lay on the floor a few feet from them. Steve leapt into a sprint, but Tony blasted the shield away with a burst from his palm. It skittered across the cement and the white-hot beam of energy rebounded off the smooth surface into a wall. Shrapnel of brick spewed out into the night.

Tony was moving before the shield had even stopped. Steve turned to meet him, catching his fist in hand and sliding backwards from the force of it. When Tony brought the other hand in low, aiming a hit at the Captain's ribs, he caught that too. They pushed against each other, neither giving any ground. Tony's metal parts complained loudly at the abuse.

To break the deadlock, Steve turned to the side and let Tony's strength work against him. Tony pitched forward, but turned both hand stabilizers down and shot into a flip. He tucked into the rotation and landed on his feet with a bang. A proximity warning came up, letting him duck Steve's swing. Shoving his shoulder into the red and white stripes on Steve's stomach, Tony landed several punches on his side before Steve picked him up and threw him. He'd always been impressed by the Captain's hand-to-hand combat skills but actually fighting him made him realize how good the man was.

Tony slid on his stomach, thinking he wasn't going to win this if he didn't step up. All of his bigger weapons were out of the question, but the Captain could take a little heat. As Steve charged him, Tony softly said, "Jarvis, take the energy down to fifteen percent," and held up a palm to blast Steve in the chest. It sent him soaring backwards.

Climbing slowly to his feet, Tony watched Steve do the same across the room. The soldier's uniform was smoking. They were both battered, physically… emotionally. Tony shook his head, deciding this had to stop. He pressed the release on his helmet and took it off as he walked over to Steve. The Captain pulled back his fist, ready for more, but froze when he saw Tony's exposed face.

"We aren't done," Steve grated out. "Put the helmet back on."

Tony let it drop to the floor. It made a hollow clang and rolled away as Tony said, "No."

"Put it back on!"

"This is ridiculous, Steve," Tony tried to enforce every word with how much he meant it. "I don't want to do this anymore."

Steve nodded, his shoulders slumping. He went over to pick up his shield and slotted the disk over his arm. Without looking up, Steve admitted, "I don't either."

Relief flooded through Tony and spread across his face as a smile, "Good, I-"

"We're through."

Tony felt like he'd taken a sucker punch to the chest. It was worse than the electrocution and the shrapnel and the anesthesia-free surgery down in the cave. He couldn't breathe. Steve got to the end of the empty factory and stepped through the hole in the wall before Tony wrapped his head around his own reaction. For the first time in his life, he realized he _needed_ another person. The thought of letting Steve go was unbearable.

Tony snatched his helmet off the ground and ran after the Captain, "Steve, wait!"

He caught Steve at the entrance and grabbed his arm. Steve turned to tell him off, but he must've looked as distraught as he felt, because the soldier's expression softened. Steve reached up to push his mask off, letting it fall like a hood on his shoulders.

Once he had Steve's guarded attention, Tony talked quickly, "Please, please don't. I'm sorry. I'm sorry about going without you and making you worry. I…" Tony paused, evaluating what he was about to say. It made him vulnerable, put him out on a ledge where he never wanted to be, where he never thought he'd be, but Steve needed to hear it. He couldn't let Steve leave without knowing the answer.

Tossing his helmet to the side to get it out of the way, he cautiously slid his hands over the sides of Steve's face. He wished he could feel his skin. Swallowing, he made sure to meet Steve's beautiful blue eyes when he said, "I love you, Steve."

Steve's lips parted slightly in surprise. Just as Tony's mind switched over and started to worry, Steve surged forward to kiss him fiercely. Tony grunted as their teeth clicked together, feeling the sharp sting of the split lip Clint had given him a few days ago. Tilting his head, Tony opened his mouth to let Steve in. Their tongues dueled almost violently. So much was almost lost and Tony could taste the evidence. Their kiss wasn't a fight for dominance; it was full of desperation from both sides.

It was strange kissing Steve in Iron Man. Though he was pressed up against him, he couldn't feel him. He knew there were hands at his back, tugging and rubbing, but they couldn't reach him. Tony didn't think he approved. As much as he'd always loved the idea of screwing around in the suit, he'd rather have Steve's hands on his skin.

Steve was thinking the same thing, because he pulled back just enough to grumble against Tony's mouth, "Take this thing off before I rip it apart. I need to touch you."

Tony moaned in agreement as he leaned in to taste Steve again. He didn't have to look to take off his armor, he knew every seam and release like he knew the planes of his own body. The shoulder mounts hit the ground first, then Tony had to step back to take off the chest plate and interior buffer.

Steve grabbed the backing as the two halves came apart, crouching to set the piece down gently. Craning his head to see Tony's face, Steve knelt on the floor in front of him and peeled the sweaty shirt off Tony's abdomen. Tony obliged by pulling it the rest of the way off. Steve pressed his lips to the exposed flesh, making Tony shiver. Hands shaking slightly, Tony shoved his gauntlets off so he could run his fingers through Steve's hair.

"I love you too," Steve said between open-mouthed kisses. With a chuckle, he added, "You burn me up sometimes, but I'm crazy about you."

Tony smiled at his words, feeling them spread through him like warm molasses, "'Burn me up', I think that one's a little passé, Cap."

"What would you say now?" the soldier asked and dipped his tongue into Tony's navel. "Pissed off? That's unpleasant."

Tony laughed breathlessly, "You're such an old man."

"You knew that going into this."

It took several minutes of Steve's languid teasing, and some extreme discomfort down low, before Tony remembered he hadn't taken off the bottom half of his armor. He ran a finger down the pressure sensors and gasped in relief as they came apart. Shedding the pieces to his knees, Tony didn't get the chance to finish. Steve's hands were at his waist, undoing the fly of his pants. As soon as he got them open, Tony's cock rose up, already half hard and growing quickly. Pushing the jeans down as far as the remaining armor allowed, Steve kept his eyes trained on the exposed organ.

Closer than Tony's thought Steve had ever been to his penis, the soldier examined it as if he'd never seen it before. Amused, Tony opened his mouth to let some quip fall and then Steve licked him from root to tip. The joke died in a rumbling groan. Pleasure crackled along Tony's spine, his hands digging into Steve's shoulders. Steve blushed deeply, but grinned at Tony's reaction. Ducking his head, he repeated the action and ran the broad flat of his tongue over the head.

Tony had experienced plenty of blowjobs in his life, but the fact that it was Captain America on his knees in front of him, in costume, made Tony blaze with lust. Thinking he had more issues than Playboy didn't lessen the eroticism any. His eyes dilated and glazed over at the feel of Steve's hot mouth engulfing the end of his cock. He tried not to move his hips, not wanting to choke Steve. It wasn't a question of whether or not Steve had given oral sex before, his red neck and cheeks said enough. For being his first, he was doing an excellent job. If it was an apology for starting the fistfight, Tony accepted it with panted moans.

Steve grabbed his ass roughly, yanking him off balance so his thighs pressed against Steve's chest. The ultra-light Kevlar of the uniform was coarse under Tony's bare skin. Tony had to spread his feet to avoid kicking Steve in the knee, leaving his boots on the outside of Steve's legs. Even with the swirling movement of the Captain's tongue over the shaft of his cock, Tony noticed that Steve was still wearing his gloves. The palms that were designed to give the blonde a good grip pulled almost painfully at Tony's skin with every massaging circle.

His first attempt to say something came out as a whine as Steve added suction to his ministrations, but Tony managed to get through, "Glo- gloves, off."

For a moment, the hands were gone, and Tony almost regretted speaking. Then they returned, warm and strong with only Steve's familiar calluses to give them texture. One ran up his back, kneading the muscle there. Just as Tony felt his orgasm building to something tangible, Steve let him out of his mouth with an obscenely wet pop. The soldier shifted his muscular thighs apart and forced Tony's boots to slide across the concrete, throwing sparks. To keep from falling, Tony leaned heavily on Steve's shoulders.

"Why'd you stop?" Tony groaned, annoyed that the stimulation had vanished.

Holding him in place with the hand at the small of his back, Steve kissed his hip gently and asked, "Do you know what my favorite filthy word is? I'll give you a hint, it's not just from your generation, though you seem to think you invented it."

"What?" Tony frowned at the sudden line of questioning. His brain wasn't receiving enough blood to deal with this. "What are you talking about?"

"It's fuck. Especially in the context of: I'm going to fuck you so hard you're going to feel me for days," Steve promised and pushed a slick finger into Tony.

A full-body shudder ripped through Tony, "Jesus, Cap. You usually leave all the dirty talk to me."

"It's been a weird day anyway, figured I'd shake things up a little more. Was it bad?"

"No," Tony croaked when Steve's finger curled against his prostate. "Worked fine for me."

Vaguely, he wondered what the Captain was using for lube. He did have all those little pockets on his belt that Tony had never seen him take anything out of, it was possible there was a bottle hidden in one. Then again, it was Steve and he didn't think ahead when it came to sex. Tony didn't particularly care what it was, because a second and third finger squeezed in almost immediately and he was reduced to animal sounds.

Steve pulled his fingers out and held Tony steady as he got up. Tony's eyelids fluttered before he managed to focus on Steve's face. The other man was smiling softly. There was always affection when Steve looked at him, but as he encouraged Tony to wrap his arms around his neck and picked him up, there was something more meaningful in his eyes. Tony had seen hints of it over the last few months and now he understood what it was. It was the 'L' word, the word he'd avoided as though saying it would make him something less. Now that it was out in the open, he didn't feel like he'd lost something. He felt like he'd gained everything.

If anyone ever tried to take this from him, he'd make them wish they'd never heard the name Iron Man. He knew Steve would do the same.

Steve stepped over the scattered pieces of his suit, carrying him to the part of the counter that was still standing. Gentler than he'd been in a long time, Steve lay him out on the smooth marble, cradling Tony's head with one hand to keep him from hitting it. Once he sat up, Steve's mouth pursed with concern. His fingertips lightly explored the bruising around Tony's neck and the scorch marks at the sides of the reactor. Tony had other bruises and scrapes, but the rest were menial.

"Who?"

"He's dead," Tony reassured him.

Steve nodded and inspected the rest of him with ghostly touches that barely made contact with Tony's heated flesh. He paused at a dark mark on Tony's side, his hands trailing around the edges as he brushed his lips against it. Every lingering stroke and kiss was going straight to Tony's groin.

He gripped Steve's arms, complaining softly, "What happened to that 'fuck you so hard you'll feel me for days' thing? Come on, Steve, you know what all this foreplay does."

Steve's lips twitched on one of Tony's pectorals and Tony could feel his smile, "It reduces your remarkable patience to nothing."

Tony could sense he was being mocked. He knew he wasn't the most patient person in the world, but when Steve put it like that, it made him sound impulsive and… Well, Steve did know him incredibly well. That road went two ways.

Wrapping his legs around Steve's waist, Tony drew him so his crotch pressed suggestively against Tony's ass. Though his jeans chained his legs together at his thighs, he could still get them open wide enough to manage. With a quick roll of his hips, Tony had Steve yanking at the fastenings of his costume. He may not have been patient, but Steve was easy to persuade. Tony hungrily watched the zipper slide down Steve's chest and stomach, cutting through the stars and stripes to the bare skin underneath.

As Steve worked his way out of the tight fabric, Tony let his eyes roam over the red burn in the center of his chest. He could've done so much more damage, but it still made his brow crease. When Steve noticed the expression, he glanced down to follow his gaze and ran a hand across the burn.

"It's not bad," Steve told him.

"I know, it's just…"

"Hey." The soldier covered Tony's body with his own and silenced him with a kiss. It was chaste, just a dry press of lips, but there were so many words hidden in it. Forgiveness, apologies, and everything else. When Steve pulled away, he whispered, "I was the one who started it, remember?"

Tony smirked, "And, like usual, I finished it."

Steve's eye roll made him laugh. His mirth fading, he arched his hips into Steve again and elicited a groan from them both. Steve got out of the rest of the costume in a hurry, releasing his thick cock from the navy material. It sprang against his stomach and Steve wrapped his hand around it to slick it with his mystery lube. There was a faint yellow tint to the lubricant, which Tony had never noticed in any of their normal brands.

When he realized what it was, he was torn between arousal and aversion, "Is that grease from my suit?"

Steve didn't answer. He dragged Tony down the counter a few inches and pressed against his entrance, shoving inside. Even with the preparation, it burned like always. Tony didn't think he'd ever get to a point where getting fucked by Steve wouldn't hurt. The man was too big and too eager.

His groan lasted as long as it took Steve to get as deep as he could. Once Steve was seated against him, Tony gasped to catch his breath. He didn't have enough time to replenish his oxygen. True to his word, Steve drew out and shoved in hard. The pace was forceful, a little painful, but had Tony curling his back into a tight arch and yelling obscenities at the wall. Steve had to grip Tony's waist to keep him from sliding across the counter.

Already so close from Steve's blowjob, Tony's orgasm curled hotly in his guts. He fought it back. There was no way he'd last long with Steve slamming into his prostate, but he could try. As he got closer, Tony stopped shouting curses and made an involuntary grunt every time Steve's flesh slapped against his own. He couldn't think of a single word, except 'Steve'.

The soldier's face tensed with concentration and his grip tightened on Tony. There wasn't a single day in Tony's memory where he hadn't gotten out of bed the morning after Steve without some kind of bruising. It was satisfying being able to see the night's escapades printed on his skin. The first time he'd done it, Steve was mortified, but Tony finally convinced him he didn't mind.

Steve slid his hands under Tony's back and lifted him off the counter. He never stopped moving, just supported Tony as he snapped his cock into him. Tony slipped his arms around Steve's neck, whimpering against the side of his face. The new position pressed his erection against Steve's tightly muscled stomach and the stimulation was too much.

"I love you," Steve panted into his ear, sending Tony off the edge.

With a broken cry, Tony came between them. His body twitched and contracted as bursts of overwhelming pleasure roared through him. Steve's thrusts grew increasingly erratic as Tony squeezed him until he joined his orgasm. The long, low groan Steve made was muffled in Tony's shoulder. He pushed into Tony a few more times, riding out the release.

Sated and more content than he ever remembered feeling, Tony lightly kissed Steve's temple, "We should probably get back before Natasha comes after me with a knife."

Steve pulled away to give him a perturbed look, asking, "What?"

"She threatened to take my balls if I didn't fix this."

"And, is that why you decided to-"

"No," Tony said immediately, though he knew Steve was kidding. He brushed a stray lock of blonde hair off of Steve's forehead and sincerely told him, "I'm never one to let go of the good things in life and I figured out you're the best thing I had going for me."

Sappy as it was, Steve's smile was worth it. The soldier kissed him, biting at his lips playfully. "You make me sound like a bottle of scotch."

"Depends on the year, but you are better than most of my scotch," Tony chuckled.

Steve glared and Tony laughed harder, "Alright tough guy, put your armor back on."

"You going to teach me another lesson that I'm going to turn around on you?"

"We're going to find Scorn and teach her a thing or two."

"But that won't end in sex," Tony pretended to be extremely annoyed by the suggestion, earning a smirk from Steve.

"Not everything in life revolves around sex."

"Says you."

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TBC…

I seriously had no idea they were going to start fighting… Yeah… I have control over these people. I hope I left your feels in a better place with this chapter. I'm getting pretty close to the end now. I don't want to try and extrapolate how many chapters might be left, since I'm always wrong when I do that, so just know that it's starting to wrap up.

Edit: OMG, the last two pages were messy. Sorry about that, I took out some of the repeating words and adjusted a few sentences. Teaches me to be in a hurry.


	11. A Payment of Flesh

Sorry this one took a little longer, it's been a rough week…

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Steve sat with his elbows on his knees and his chin on top of his interlaced fingers. He'd pulled Tony's oversized leather chair out of his closet, where the billionaire kept it to put on his shoes, and over to the side of the bed an hour or so after Tony finally went to sleep.

The dark-haired genius had desperately tried to stay awake for Fury's debrief and the ensuing hunt for the missing trucks, but Steve had barely managed to catch him when he passed out on his feet. It was the inevitable result and Steve was thankful he'd been expecting it. It helped that Steve hadn't strayed more than ten feet from the other man since they'd reconciled. And it wasn't the first time he'd seen Tony work himself until he'd dropped.

Steve couldn't quite bring himself to leave Tony alone. Fury and the others knew they could come get him should something arise, but he wanted to ensure that Tony got as much rest as he could. Currently, Tony was sprawled out in the middle of the bed on his stomach, his face half-hidden by a large, goose down pillow. The mattress absorbed the reactor's glow, leaving the room darker than it normally was.

Despite Steve getting up to adjust the sheets up around Tony's shoulders several times, they were tangled in the man's legs again. He assumed Tony would be cold since Steve had stripped him to his tiny, black underwear, but he'd given up on it. Tony was just as stubborn asleep as he was awake.

With as exposed as Tony was, Steve could see the bruises speckling his back and extremities as if Tony was turning into a leopard. Steve didn't know which ones he'd inflicted and which ones were from Tony's struggle with Scorn. Thinking about hauling off and hitting Tony made Steve open his hands and press his face into them. He rubbed at his eye sockets roughly, the act replaying itself behind his closed lids. Tony had given just as good as he'd received, but Steve never should've lost his temper to such an extreme degree.

"Stop thinking, I can smell it from here," Tony grumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

Steve dropped his hands to dangle between his knees. He hadn't expected Tony to be awake until morning, but he should've known better. The younger man could live off catnaps. Rotating his body so they had a little light, Tony studied him with bleary eyes.

"You need to go back to sleep."

"How long have I been out?"

Steve leaned forward to see the digital clock on the nightstand, "Only four hours."

"Plenty," was Tony's answer as he pushed himself upright. "Where are we in finding Scorn?"

"They think they've located two of the trucks, but they were both empty. Right now, they're putting together a list of suspects for you to go through."

Tony nodded, his gaze unfocused, his body slumped, and his motions slow. There was no way four hours was 'plenty' Steve thought and got out of the chair. If he didn't act before Tony's feet hit the floor, he'd never stop the philanthropist's forward motion. As soon as Tony made plans and was working to fulfill them, he couldn't be convinced to sit still. Toeing off his boots as he crawled onto the bed, Steve intercepted him with an arm around his waist.

Tony griped, "Steve, don't," but didn't fight him.

Steve shoved the pillows up against the wall (they'd stopped installing headboards after Steve broke the fourth one) and settled against them, drawing Tony so his back was flush to Steve's chest. Despite the resistance Tony feigned, he left his head on Steve's collarbone and melted into his arms. Steve drew his knees up on either side of Tony, certain the smaller man would drift off again in minutes if given the opportunity.

Gently carding his fingers through the dark head of hair, Steve let his mind wander as he listened to Tony's breathing even out. He let his thumb trail down Tony's sideburn and along his jaw. He'd hit him hard when Tony first landed in the SHIELD jet and he needed to be sure he hadn't hurt him too badly. There weren't any knots of angry tissue, just a few days worth of stubble.

Tony's hand caught his. He brought Steve's arm around in front of him, kissing the palm, "Seriously, Steve. Stop thinking about it."

Steve sighed. Not particularly surprised Tony was still awake, he admitted, "I can't help it, I never should've hit you... We nearly killed each other."

"No we didn't," Tony groaned, each word heavy with his frustration. "You never would've taken it that far and I was holding back everything that could do serious damage. Trust me, if we wanted to kill each other, we would have."

As always, Steve thought Tony made an excellent point, but it didn't change the fact that he'd smacked his boyfriend around as if he was a punching bag. Domestic violence didn't even begin to cover it, mostly because domestic implied that they were both normal. Steve was certain that the statutes on that didn't get into super strength or mechanically enhanced abilities. Whatever it was classified as, it wasn't okay with Steve. He had controlled his strength, but he'd still _hit_ him.

"I punched you…" his mumble was barely audible.

An aggravated rumble said Tony had heard him, "I shot you, so we're even."

"You turned down the power," Steve pointed out.

Tony sat forward enough to get on his side, bracing a hand on the wall by Steve's head. His chocolate eyes flicked over Steve's face, "And you wouldn't touch me unless I was wearing my armor. Iron Man is used to getting dented up, a hammer and a quick buff and shine will make it seem like it never happened."

Tony pressed his chest against Steve, blocking out the light as he assaulted his lips. Steve's arms gravitated to Tony's slim waist. As he was losing himself to the touch and tease of the other man's tongue, Tony withdrew.

"I'm glad things happened the way they did."

"What, why?"

Tony's smile was sly sex, "Because the make-up fuck was hotter than a rocket launch." The grin faded and Tony averted his gaze, "And if it hadn't gone so wrong, if you hadn't tried to walk away, I never would've realized what I have."

The admittance was softly spoken and made Steve's heart ache with how open and honest it was. They'd turned some kind of corner in their relationship. They weren't casual boyfriends anymore, they'd taken the first tentative step into something deeper. If Tony's expression was anything to go by, he recognized it too and it scared him.

Aside from his connection with Pepper, Steve didn't suppose Tony had ever been this close to another human being. When he'd met him, Steve thought it was because Tony didn't care about anyone but himself. Now, he could see that Tony stayed at a distance to avoid getting hurt. Steve wasn't sure what source the fear traced back to, but he'd put money on Tony's emotionally distant father.

"Well," Steve brushed Tony's bangs off his forehead, smiling at the way the younger man leaned into his touch. "I think you might be stuck with me, so remember you said that."

"Promises, promises," Tony hummed and grazed his teeth over the taut muscle in Steve's throat.

Steve's brow dipped slightly at the joke. It was Tony making light of things as always, but there was an undertone. Part of Tony wasn't convinced. He was hiding it effectively, but Steve had picked up most of Tony's tells since they'd started dating.

Lifting his back off the pillows so Tony could strip his shirt over his head, Steve asked, "Would you believe me if I bought you a ring?" Steve worried it was too much too quickly for the skittish billionaire, but he wanted Tony to have the comfort of _knowing_ he would be there, not just leave him guessing.

Tony sat up so quickly that his head smacked into the underside of Steve's jaw. His teeth clacked together from the hit and he heard Tony hiss, "Shit…" Their eyes met, Tony's bewildered and Steve's sincere.

"This isn't a formal proposal or anything, I'd make sure to do that the right way, so you don't have to give me an answer now," Steve tripped over his words, his cheeks darkening. It had played out a little differently in his mind.

"Are you… are you being serious?"

Steve dropped his head against the wall, frowning deeply. Tony's reaction made him regret saying it. He didn't need more from Tony, he'd take anything he could get, but there was no way he could dismiss the comment as his own attempt at humor. Tony would see right through it. "I-"

"Don't buy rings." As hurt flared in Steve, Tony hastily added, "I want to make them."

A thousand thoughts and emotions thundered through Steve. He hoped Tony wouldn't make them too flashy or complicated, but he wondered what he was capable of crafting. Behind that were the thoughts of moving out of his apartment and having to give up his home in Brooklyn. Briefly, he also wondered how he was going to convince Tony to let him put up more decorations in the stiflingly modern penthouse. Twined in all of it was joy.

Grinning wider than he had in a long time, Steve tumbled with Tony across the bed. He tried to be mindful of his injuries as he kissed him. Tony groaned and spread his legs, letting Steve settle between them. There was a good chance that Tony was still sore from their rough session at the factory, but Steve knew he would stop him if he decided it was too much. Even sore or tired, Tony lived in a state of horny. Steve loved it.

Tony laughed breathlessly when Steve showered kisses on his face and shoulders, "It'll only save you a couple-hundred bucks, relax. We still have to buy the gold. Or, you know," Tony caught his face, "I could use gold-titanium, I do have a lot of it hanging around the shop."

Steve's nose wrinkled as he thought about it, "It wouldn't be red, would it?"

"You do know that part is painted, right?"

The way Tony's suit took damage told him that. Scars across the flame-bright sections of Iron Man always revealed the gold underneath. He smirked and gave Tony a wink, "I'm just saying that my ring better not look like a miniature version of your suit. And if it does, yours had better be red, white, and blue with a little star in the middle."

Tony took his own lower lip between his teeth, sniggering, "That would be tacky. Are you sure I can convince you to let me put a little LED light in the center where the diamond should go? I could engrave it with 'This fantastic ass belongs to Iron Man'."

Oddly, Steve could picture it all too easily. He wouldn't put it past Tony to make it. Refusing to give the suggestion power, Steve said, "Too bad vibranium was never replicated, it would be fitting."

"Actually," Tony wrapped a leg around Steve's waist and dragged him closer. He took Steve's wrist, lifting his hand to the arc reactor, "It was eventually rediscovered. When dad couldn't reproduce the results of the original experiment, he left a blueprint for me to follow."

Mouth opening, then closing, then opening again, Steve never found the proper vocabulary to phrase his question. He looked down at the brilliant piece of machinery, his thumb grazing over it unconsciously, lovingly. In the center of the device was the source of the light, a small triangle of metal Steve had never bothered to identify. Science wasn't really his forte. He was decent enough at it in school, he knew all of his elements and where they sat on the periodic table, but he'd never given the construction of Tony's arc much thought.

"This is vibranium?" Steve finally asked.

The words were quiet, full of awe. It was one more link in the chain between them, links that had been forming long before the younger Stark was born. It was strange to think that the metal that protected him also protected Tony. The actual application couldn't have been farther apart, but the basis was the same. It kept them alive.

"You've probably read it in my file, but the palladium I used first didn't… agree with my body, so I had to find a replacement," Tony explained as he took off his underwear. He put his finger in the elastic band and shot them across the room.

Steve looked up from unfastening his pants. As much as he wanted to get into Tony, this was more important. Ever since Colonel Rhodes told him about the deadly arc while they were in the elevator, Steve had craved details. He let Tony chatter, which Tony was very good at doing. Without interruption, he could babble for an hour or more on one topic.

"I didn't know it was vibranium until you showed up with that shield and I started comparing properties. When you think about the torsion stiffness characteristics of-"

"Tony, you're not speaking English anymore."

"I forget you're not Banner. His pillow talk is much more intelligent," Tony teased as he arched his body against Steve.

Ignoring the Banner comment, Steve clamped his hands over Tony's hips to still them. There was so much he wanted to know, but Tony didn't appreciate being held down. The smaller man hooked his other leg over Steve's low back and squeezed him with his thighs.

"Don't stop. God, baby, please don't stop," Tony whined, the sounds skimming down Steve's body and catching fire in his groin. Stark was already getting hard, the firm line of his cock pressed against Steve's abdomen.

Somehow, Steve managed to refrain from grinding Tony into the mattress, "What was the palladium doing to you?"

"If you don't fuck me in the next ten seconds, I might kill you."

"Tell me."

Tony's glare was one Steve was incredibly familiar with. The sharp arch of his left brow and the way his mouth pulled to the side shouted, 'Are you kidding?' When Steve didn't back down, Tony growled, "You do realize you're cockblocking yourself here."

Steve wasn't familiar with the twenty-first century term, but he could guess what it meant. Quietly, Steve said, "Your buddy told me about it, that it was killing you and that was why you gave up one of your suits. You wanted him to continue as Iron Man after you were gone. It was really bad, wasn't it?"

"Rhodey's dead. He's absolutely dead," Tony groaned and let his head flop onto the pillow. "Can't we have post-engagement, afterglow sex and forget about the palladium? Since I already know the answer to that, roll over."

Steve obliged and slid out from between Tony's legs when he was released. As he got onto his back, Tony abruptly straddled his waist. He started to argue and Tony's tongue filled his mouth, silencing him. He grabbed the prominent curve of Tony's hipbones, not to stop him this time, but to steady him. As Tony sat up, Steve let his palms wander over the length of Tony's strong thighs. The play of muscle under the pale skin was nearly mesmerizing.

Tony shimmied down Steve's body so he could get at the button on his slacks. Reaching between the 'V' of his own legs, Tony dragged the zipper down so slowly that Steve felt sweat spring up along his hairline. Pushing the slacks just far enough to free Steve's erection, Tony lifted onto his knees and got positioned over him. He was still slick and loose from earlier, making the entry a smooth glide.

Steve hands tightened compulsively on Tony and he had to force them to relax so he wouldn't leave any more bruises. There were enough contusions on the other man already. Tony's heat engulfed him as he settled onto Steve's hips. While Steve could only think of thrusting up into the inviting body above him, Tony was able to continue with his explanation.

"The output from the palladium was enough to power the suit, but the discharge from the reaction saturated my bloodstream. I- couldn't control the levels," Tony clarified and watched Steve through hooded eyes. Putting both hands back, Tony pressed on Steve's thighs to stifle his bucking. "You lost your chance, big guy. Now sit still."

Tony canted his hips as he rode Steve leisurely, coming down at the perfect angle each time. It was almost impossible for Steve not to be involved in sex. Every urge he had screamed to take over and pump into Tony fast and hard. They weren't temperate like this, like orgasm was the last thing either of them wanted.

Taking a deep breath, Steve settled into the pillows and let himself drink in Tony's long, lean frame as the younger man worked him. It was good, especially the view, and the hot tingle that prickled along his nerve endings was reminiscent of the blinding pleasure he felt when he took Tony more forcefully. The pace Tony set let Steve keep a head on his shoulders.

While he stroked the insides of Tony's thighs, he processed what he'd heard about the damaging core, "S- so that's when you started looking for a replacement element?" Minutely, Steve thrust into Tony's next downward stroke.

"There wasn't one," Tony tossed his head back and gasped. "Fury got involved, started shoving all my… ughn- all my old man's stuff at me, said there was an answer. Fuck, Steve, I told you to sit still."

Steve smiled, feeling control returning to him as he pushed up to meet Tony's hips again, "Go on, you found the blueprints for vibranium in the material Fury brought you?"

"No, I'd had it in storage for years. Damn bastard built it into the Expo model."

"Smart."

Tony snorted, his eyes squinting shut in concentration, "Stark men are nothing if not intelligent. Unfortunately, it comes with long list of character defects."

"I'm familiar with them," and he was. Extremely familiar.

Steve could safely say Tony's drinking habits had slowed down to something that remotely resembled normal and Steve could only hope it was his influence over the man. When they imbibed together Tony didn't overdo it. As long as he wasn't sulking about something alone, Tony managed to stay sober most days. The narcissism still needed work, but Steve knew billionaires had to take baby steps. Besides, Tony's self-assuredness was part of what Steve liked about him.

A shudder shook Tony at Steve's next thrust, making his rhythm falter. His eyebrows tilted up and his mouth fell open. The low keening moan Tony released crawled across Steve like a living thing, heating his skin and forcing all of his remaining blood to drain lower. Bracing his feet on the bed to get some leverage, Steve pulled Tony down onto his cock and pushed up to meet him.

Steve kept his eyes trained on Tony as he pounded into him. He lived for this moment, when the unshakable Tony Stark completely fell apart in his hands. From their first time together, Steve had found a certain pride in the way he could reduce a man like Tony to whimpered pleading.

It was so far beyond anything he was capable of before the serum. Before, he just prayed he could make it through sex without having an asthma attack. On days when he missed the world he used to know, he reminded himself that this was the trade-off, having Tony writhing against him like he was the only person alive capable of giving him release.

Tony's fingers threaded in Steve's, gripping so fiercely his knuckles turned white. Tony started to speak, but couldn't make any noise beyond airy moans. It didn't matter. Steve knew what he was going to say. He could feel how close Tony was in the tension of his thighs and the tightening of his interior walls. If Steve so much as grazed his cock, the younger man would go off. It bobbed within easy reach, red and engorged and leaking profusely. A trail of opaque precome ran all the way to the nest of dark curls.

Steve wanted to hold out, but wanted to give Tony what he needed even more. When he loosened his hold on one side, Tony's hand stayed tangled with his. Reversing their grip so Steve's larger palm engulfed the back of Tony's hand, Steve guided both of them to Tony's cock. The first touch was enough.

Tony came with a wrecked shout, his every muscle seizing with the force of it. Steve wasn't sure if it was Tony clamping around his cock in a vice or the sheer bliss on his features that sent him spiraling into the throws of orgasm. He pumped into Tony twice more, his vision blurring until all that was left were the waves of ecstasy making him tremble and the heat of his release.

Steve climbed down from his high quicker than normal, his instincts suddenly screaming that there was someone else in the room. He grabbed the nearest object, which happened to be the alarm clock, and threw it with deadly accuracy into the shadows. It shattered out of sight.

Tony twisted to follow the motion, the arc faintly illuminating the cracked wall and the fragments of technology scattered across the carpet, "What the hell did my clock do to-" he shut up when Natasha stepped into the light. "Oh, you have completely redefined the word creepy."

The spy braced her hands on her belt, her face completely neutral, "Are you two done, or do I need to go get a bucket of water?"

Steve inhaled sharply and held it in his lungs, embarrassment flooding his system as a paralytic. His face burned. The sensation spread down his neck and shoulders until he felt as though his entire body was blushing. Tony, on the other hand, didn't move or cover himself or get off of Steve's cock.

Looking up at the ceiling, Tony practically scolded his computer, "Jarvis! Why didn't you tell me Agent Romanoff had entered the room?"

Jane's voice responded calmly, "May I remind you, sir, that you insisted I not speak until my vocal files could be updated." It made Steve feel a hundred times more awkward.

"How long have you been standing there?" Tony griped at Natasha, his chest still heaving as he caught his breath.

"Long enough to know that Steve should consider a career in porn."

Steve felt his skin get hotter. Trying to hide his immense shame, he slid the nearest pillow over his face and pressed it down with his arms. Maybe if he suffocated, this moment would end. His toes curled. Even through the feather filling, he could hear them talking.

Natasha flipped to business as if she hadn't interrupted them naked and still entwined, "We've compiled the possible suspects and we need you to look over it."

"Can we have five minutes?"

Steve moved the pillow in time to see Natasha's gaze slide over them both appraisingly and one of her thin eyebrows lift. The corner of her Cupid's bow mouth curled, "Take ten, I'll tell Fury you're getting coffee." She slipped out as quietly as she came in.

As the door clicked shut, Steve groaned and dropped the pillow back onto his head, "If your mattress would kindly open up and swallow me now…"

The weight on his hips lifted and his soft member slid out of Tony. He should've been half-hard from the man squirming on him for several minutes, but getting caught in the act had never been a turn on for Steve. Nothing made his cock curl up faster than getting interrupted by a third party. He didn't think he'd ever get used to this modern culture where people had sex in places they hoped they would get caught. It was bad enough he'd taken Tony at the abandoned factory.

Tony slapped his chest lightly then yanked the pillow off his shame, reminding him, "We've got work to do. You and my bed can get intimate later."

"I- I didn't mean it like that," Steve stammered.

"Sure, that's what they all say."

"Who're 'they'?"

"Just the incorporeal representation of the human masses," the genius said, not really explaining anything.

They got cleaned up, Steve carefully snagging Tony's shoulders so he could press an occasional kiss to his neck or cheek. Tony got into a fresh pair of clothes while Steve slipped out of his stained slacks and back into his uniform. He didn't know how long it would take them to track Scorn once they knew her real name, so he figured it wouldn't hurt to be prepared. Steve walked just behind Tony as they went downstairs to meet with Fury.

The dark-skinned man stood at the projector looking up at images of seven different women. Just behind him, Natasha was perched on the end of the conference table. She smiled suggestively when they came into the room and Steve felt his blush returning. Clint was at her elbow, his curiosity scarcely hidden. Natasha turned her head away from them so neither could see her lips moving as she spoke to him, and then Clint shared her grin.

Steve averted his gaze to the line-up on the wall. Tony hadn't even reached them before he pointed at a woman in the middle with a heart-shaped face, "Her, that one." Getting close enough to press his finger to the glowing image, Tony glanced over his shoulder at Natasha, "Who is this?"

The layout of the screen changed, the other photos vanishing and the grainy image of the woman Tony had indicated shifted to the left side of the projection. It sized up and paragraphs of information slotted in to the right. Steve scanned it quickly.

"Raisa Golovin," Natasha said, getting off the table. Her face turned to the projection and her expression flattened so there wasn't a trace of emotion. "Born 1978 to an unlisted, drug-addicted mother. Raised in the Russian equivalency of foster care. Adopted in 1985 to an upper-middle class family, showed signs of extreme intelligence."

"What's her IQ?" Tony asked. The question was serious, but Steve had to bite back a chuckle. Tony was always sizing up the competition.

Fury was the one to answer, "Never tested, but she'd probably give even you a run for your money."

"She already did that. I won, moving on."

Ignoring the interruption, Natasha continued her brief, "Went to college at Princeton with a grant, getting duel doctorates in bioengineering and biotechnology. Came back to Russia with research offers at several major corporations and married a man named Yegor Golovin-"

"Okay, yeah we get it. She's brilliant and somehow makes time for family. Can we move on to the 'where we find her' part? I would even settle for the 'why she snapped' part," Tony said and tossed out a circling motion with his hand to suggest they move along.

Though Steve wouldn't say it, he was thinking the same thing. Every piece of information could be vital in some way, but they needed to find her before she did any more damage. The woman had already proven her ability to cause chaos and Steve wanted to be on her trail as soon as possible.

The terms associated with her doctorates weren't terribly familiar to Steve. He'd heard them thrown around about Banner, so he could make an educated guess. It explained why she was able to pick up his experiment so quickly. Bruce had been working endlessly to create an antidote to the serum, but hadn't been particularly successful so far. SHIELD converted one of the labs into a morgue so Banner could dissect the abominations they'd fought. They were the only clues the doctor had to unraveling his unfinished work.

Natasha broke eye contact and hesitated, but Clint jumped in, "A shady branch of the Russian military decided that they wanted her working in their R and D department. When they couldn't convince her with money, they sent Natasha to-"

"Persuade her," the redhead cut in.

Steve felt a little sick to his stomach. He'd heard how Natasha persuaded people, and it didn't always involve talking. Her tactics were different now, but they all knew what she used to be. The red ledger was infamous around SHIELD. The only people who'd ever seen its contents, besides the spy herself, were Fury and Clint. Neither of them ever talked about it.

When the silence in the room had stretched too thin, Steve asked, "Did she end up working for them?"

"Yes," Clint and Natasha told him simultaneously.

Steve glanced at the soft, smiling face that was framed by blue-black hair. In the image, Raisa was in a lab coat, her hands stuck in the front pockets and her posture relaxed. It was clearly taken before Natasha got a hold of her. Steve wondered what she could've possibly done to the woman to make her think that hundreds of innocent lives were an acceptable cost for her revenge. Lifting his head, he decided that knowing would change his view of Natasha. If they were going to keep working together, it was better that he didn't know.

"So," Tony drew out, rubbing a thumb over his beard as he considered what he was going to say. "If this martial faction started all this, why is she attacking us?" Before anyone else could speak, Tony answered his own question, "We're just means to an end. She needed a force behind her for whatever she's up to, that's why she broke in to the tower."

Clint leaned forward, "But how did she get the formula reworked so quickly?"

Fury uncrossed his arms and went to one of the monitors. A stream of white code appeared on the dark screen, all of it just gibberish to Steve. The director scrolled through the text with the keyboard to a point that was highlighted in red, "According to the security feed we managed to salvage from Jarvis, she'd already been in the tower more than-"

Tony shushed them both, "Shut up, Daddy's thinking."

Steve rubbed his forehead at the comment, avoiding Fury's annoyed glare. Expectedly, Tony didn't even seem to notice it. Stark started to pace, so deep in his own thoughts that they ceased to exist. It happened when pieces of information Tony'd been grasping at finally came together. Steve just stayed out of his way when it happened because Tony was likely to bolt for some tool or file without any warning. The one time he'd been standing in the other man's path, Tony had plowed into him so hard he'd nearly knocked himself unconscious.

Tony froze, his eyes locking on Steve's face, "She knew we'd interrupt whatever she was planning and decided not to leave us to chance. So she planted the bomb in the garage to kill me and ended up hitting you. When that didn't work, she lured us all out. She's been playing us at every turn, and she'll keep playing us if we can't get ahead of her game."

Agent Hill came in at a brisk walk, her mouth pressed into a white line. The other activity in the room stilled and quieted. There was very little that could put a SHIELD agent on edge, so Steve straightened his shoulders and prepared for orders. "Sir," Hill addressed Director Fury crisply and said, "DC is under attack, sir. The assailants are reported as inhuman, massive and powerful."

Fury leapt into motion, yelling orders, "I want everyone suited up and rolling in five! Get every eye turned on Washington, I want to see what's going on." He turned on the team as a live feed of the capitol building replaced Scorn's file on the projector. "That includes you. Get Thor and Banner and get moving."

There was a firefight in the street. The muzzle blasts flared from the police line as well as from the tight group huddled behind a half-dozen over turned cars. Three massive shapes wreaked havoc on the police force, throwing vehicles and people alike. As the video flipped to a different camera angle, Steve could see more armed men getting out of unmarked trucks to join the fight. They were sloppy and untrained. Without the abominations, law enforcement would take them apart.

Steve led the way, the spies immediately falling into step behind him, but Tony stayed where he was. Brow knitting, Steve said, "We've got to get suited up. Tony?"

Tony shook his head, slowly at first and then more adamantly, "No, this doesn't make any sense. This is part of the game, it has to be."

"They're attacking the capitol, doesn't seem much like a game," Clint told him.

"Look, this is what she does. She throws something big and alarming at us so we don't see what she's doing behind the scenes. This," Tony pointed at the carnage, "is her lure, her ruse. There's only three of them, the rest are just convicts with guns. Where are the others?"

"I know." Natasha raised her eyes from the floor and repeated, "I know where she is."

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TBC…

I had to fly with the Super Husbands thing. Couldn't help it, it needed to happen. Also, Tony's reactor core IS made out of vibranium, according to Marvel's website. They write the gay for me, I swear.


	12. The Making of a Monster

A/N: Seriously, sorry this took so long. I've been dealing with some family drama and my story has been the last thing on my mind. Thank you for your patience.

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Tony sat on the jet's bench seat next to Steve, their thighs touching even though Tony couldn't feel it through his armor. His helmet was on the bench beside him. He could've made better time flying in the MARK VII, but there was no telling what they'd be up against in Moscow. Alone, he might not do any good. Or he'd get killed. Tony knew he was going to have to readjust the way he thought about handling an enemy threat.

Charging in headlong was typical for him, but Steve wasn't particularly fond of the tactic. There would be days when Tony didn't have another choice, that it would be either lose civilians or go in without the team and save them. He figured Steve would have his back on a decision like that. Being heroes meant that the lives of others came first and Steve believed that just as much as Tony did.

They watched the live video of Washington DC while they were speeding over the Arctic Circle. Natasha stood closest to the screen, her fingers tangled in the cargo nets near Clint's shoulder. Bruce couldn't seem to stop moving. Tony watched him more than he watched the television. If Banner went nuclear in the jet, there wouldn't be anywhere for him to go, or for them to go. Tony thought he had a lid on it, but it was nerve wracking. Even Thor palmed the handle of his hammer at Bruce's behavior, his bright blue eyes tracking the distraught doctor.

As difficult as it was to leave when their country was under attack, Fury assured them that he had enough agents to handle three Banner look-a-likes and a group of thugs with guns. The DC police were well trained for terrorist attacks and the area where they'd isolated Scorn's men was cleared of civilians almost as soon as they'd started shooting.

Barely ten minutes after they'd gotten the call SHIELD descended on Washington with attack helicopters and a slew of black-ops agents. The armed convicts had gone down like dominos, but they were still struggling to kill the super-soldier, Hulk crossbreeds. Even the heavy artillery was having a hard time breaking through their skin.

Tony noticed that some of the abominations were tougher than others. There were a few that were almost as bad as Banner's first lab mistake, while the rest were hard to put down, but not impossible. The smallest of the trio took a round to the eye and fell, twitching, to the road. It was a short-lived victory. The purplish monster with a trailing mane of black hair in the center of his back scrambled up the side of a building. It climbed the marble and glass as easily as it would a ladder, leaping diagonally off the top to catch one of the helicopters.

Steve's hands curled as they watched the aircraft spiral out of control, "We should be there."

"Trust me, the death toll will be even higher in Russia," Natasha answered without looking away from the screen.

Tony forced Steve's closest hand open and locked their fingers together. Even through the metal gauntlet, he could feel the pressure of Steve's grip. They stared at the feed silently. SHIELD's agents scattered out from under the helicopter just before it crashed into their position. The gas tank went up in a fireball and the burning fuel spread out into the defensive line. As the rotor hit the ground, fragments of blade broke off with each rapid rotation. The flying shrapnel imbedded in nearby cars and buildings and agents.

Tony ground his teeth together. One of them needed to go back and he made better time than Thor did. Grabbing his helmet, Tony went for the control panel to open the door, "Someone has to help them, they're getting destroyed."

"Wait," Natasha implored.

Tony put on his helmet and turned so he could see the others in his peripherals. Steve was on his feet, but he nodded at Tony. The helm's speaker took over, giving his voice a mechanical edge, "You've got enough firepower here to deal with Scorn. One of us should've stayed behind to begin with."

"I am in agreement with Tony. The director needs assistance," Thor said.

The leather-clad spy pressed, "No, look."

All eyes went back to the screen as one figure stepped out of SHIELD's defensive line. The media zoomed in on him enough to see he wasn't dressed like one of their agents, he was wearing jeans, cowboy boots, and a plaid shirt under a worn out leather jacket. Shorter than most, with dark hair and a cigar sticking out of the corner of his mouth, the man didn't seem like much beyond a bad attitude. Before Tony could speak the thought that the guy was about to get himself killed, the new arrival grew metallic claws between his knuckles and charged the abominations.

Tony's eyebrows went up behind his mask, "Did Fury bring in another Avenger?"

"Last I heard Logan had turned us down. I believe his actual words to Fury were, 'Fuck off, bub'," Clint said as they watched the man take apart one of the creatures. For not having any kind of protection aside from the jacket, the guy was bold. He came at the giants with ferocity that was almost animalistic, slashing bloody wounds into them with the claws.

"It was 'Go fuck yourself, bub'," Natasha corrected.

Tony chuckled. He already liked this guy. And he really wanted a closer look at the claws. The metal had a higher density than steel or lead, since it was making ribbons out of the abominations where their other weapons had failed. Tony wondered if there was a file in SHIELD's database that would explain them. Killing the exterior speaker, Tony said, "Jarvis, bring up the Avengers Initiative files."

The information he'd seen countless times scrolled across his HUD, certain chunks highlighting and changing size as his eyes flicked over them. When he found something about 'potential agents', he entered a treasure trove of interesting files. There were more people like them than Tony thought. Navigating quickly through them, he found the one on Logan, codename Wolverine, and started reading about adamantium.

"What are you doing in there?" Steve's voice asked.

"Nothing, just educating myself."

Suddenly, the screen inside his helmet went dark and it decompressed with a slight hiss. Steve lifted the helm off his head, "Hacking SHIELD's files again?"

Tony squinted at the brightness of the jet's interior, giving Steve a sheepish half smile, "Just taking a peek at the secrets of the secrets. He's got that metal grafted onto his bones, talk about dedication."

Banner's head came up as his interest piqued, "Everywhere? How did they manage that without killing him?"

"Your clearance level doesn't cover Logan's files," Clint told him unnecessarily.

"Yes, Barton, thus why we call it hacking," Tony chided and glanced over at Bruce. "I didn't get to that part before I got rudely interrupted."

The jab was light and the Captain took it in stride. Shaking his head, Steve handed the helmet to Tony and went over to turn off the television. The media was being systematically terminated by SHIELD now that the fight was over, so there was nothing left to watch. The last image before Steve hit the power button was of Logan cleaning his claws off with his shirt.

"This faction isn't going to be very happy to see you since you left for America. How do we know they'll even listen?" Steve asked Natasha.

"They might not."

Bruce pushed his glasses up and cleared his throat, his hands flicking through the air as he spoke, "So, we're going to save a bunch of people that hire assassins to bully others into working for them, when they probably don't want our help? How does that make sense?"

"Because the corruption is restricted to the top of the food chain. There are thousands of people working for the company, and very few of them know what's going on upstairs. Raisa won't care. What I did to her in their name was… unspeakable. It made her something else," Natasha explained softly.

For a moment, Tony could see a break in her walls. It was so subtle, so small that he'd have missed it when they first met. It was in the darkening of her eyes and the faint twitch at the corner of her mouth. As soon as he noticed it, the signs were gone and she had the perfectly smooth exterior of a trained spy. Tony didn't think she was going to give them any details. It still bothered her, and that alone told Tony how bad it was.

"A few of us should go in, and everyone else should take a post outside and search for Scorn," Tony suggested, looking to Steve for confirmation. "We might be able to evacuate the building before she gets there, assuming she's not already there."

Tony didn't mention that he planned on being one of the ones on the inside, mostly because it involved taking off his armor. He had a lot of political and economic weight to throw around, so he'd be the best choice to convince them the threat was serious. It wasn't ideal, but he could set MARK VII to deploy on his command, as long as it was in range. If he'd boosted the telecom interface the way he'd initially intended, he could've engaged that function when Scorn had stolen them. It was on his absurdly long to-do list.

"Natasha needs to be the one to go into the building, they know her. I think you should go with her, Tony," Steve said with a deep inhale as if the words were hard to get out.

Surprised, Tony's eyes rounded and his brow arched.

Steve continued, "You're recognizable in any corner of the world, so maybe that will help."

"Kind of wish I wore a tie," Tony joked with a smile.

Putting his helmet back on, Tony spoke the codes to put the suit into standby. A symphony of moving parts separated around him, each one sliding into place at his back. As he stepped away, Tony checked the wristbands he designed to communicate with the suit. The connection was strong. The suit folded down onto the boots and finally settled into the oblong rocket shape for fixed wing flight.

Seeing Steve's concern, Tony looked down at the compact suit, "Don't worry, it'll come get me if I get in trouble. I can't meet the head of some Russian spy operation in weaponized body armor. It sends a bad message."

As it was, he was meeting the head of an incredibly questionable military faction in a long-sleeved Metallica shirt and jeans, which he wasn't particularly happy about either. When CEO's had to look down to talk to him, he made a more impressive impression in a suit. Tony figured he'd manage. It was all about presence anyway.

"Speaking of, you're all really obvious. I don't think you can pass off the red and blue spandex as tourist fare," Tony mentioned to Steve before his gaze wandered to Thor and his long cape and metal-plated arms, "Don't even get me started on you. If they aren't in position yet, we're going to scare them off. We look like a circus road show."

"It's not spandex," Steve grumbled.

Tony ignored the comment, "At least Banner has regular clothes until he throws a tantrum. Seriously guys, if we plan on being covert on this, we're going to fail miserably. Scorn will spot us from the other side of Red Square."

Bruce glanced down at his button-up and slacks, cracking a tiny smile as he pushed his hands in his pockets. The motion brought Tony's attention to his blazer. He considered taking it to dress up his own clothes, since Bruce was going to make it into shreds in an hour or two anyway, but the state of it changed his mind. The doctor didn't get out for new clothes too often and the jacket was threadbare in places. Tony thought he'd make a better impact in the Metallica shirt.

"We can't go in as civilians-"

Natasha talked over Steve, "No, he's right. Scorn will pull back if she sees we're there, and then there's no telling when the attack with come. We need to catch her off guard."

Clint, who Tony was convinced was prepared for everything, pulled a bag out from under his seat. Unzipping it, he unpacked some street clothes. He held out a long piece of slinky, red fabric towards Natasha that she took automatically.

She leaned in with a scowl and pawed through the SHIELD duffle, "I don't have anything else? I told you to get my shorts."

"I couldn't find your shorts."

"They're in the drawer where I always keep them."

"No, they weren't. I looked."

"Did you actually look, or did you do the guy thing where you push stuff around a little and give up?"

Tony slid away from the argument before things got worse. He didn't think they'd get into a physical fight, but they were both assassins. Pressing his hip against Steve, Tony was still partially listening to their spat when he asked, "You don't carry around pleated khakis on missions?" Tony had convinced Steve to get rid of the dated wardrobe he'd gotten when he first woke up, but he couldn't help but tease him from time to time.

"Didn't know we'd need civilian clothes," Steve said, either missing or bypassing the comment on the khakis.

"My armor can be pared to a casual state."

Tony gave Thor a 'like hell' look and said, "You mean the slightly less armor-like armor? The stuff that's just as obvious? You can get away with that in Asgard, but it's not going to fly here."

Thor scratched his head, "I will not be flying if we are meant to act as humans, I am aware that Midgardians do not fly unless they are aided by machines."

Glancing at Steve didn't chase away Tony's rush of amusement, the soldier was just as puzzled as Thor. When the blonde said, "I don't get it either," Tony's chortle escaped as a snort.

"We should just leave the Double-Mint twins on the plane," Tony suggested to Bruce, who shrugged.

"Steve and I cannot be twins as we are not related by blood. Speak sensibly."

Steve cut through the nonsense with one gloved hand, his voice loud and commanding, "Enough. Time to focus. Thor and I need to be able to move around without getting noticed. Suggestions?" Before Tony could throw out any options, Steve's face turned a brilliant shade of crimson and he turned to the wall.

Curious, Tony looked back to find Natasha changing out of her skin-tight costume. She had to shimmy her hips to get the material past her waist. Tony blinked at the fact that she wasn't wearing underwear and turned around too, smirking. Thor wasn't really staring, but the nudity didn't seem to bother him any, and Banner looked up at the ceiling as if there was something interesting to study.

"Oh, come on, boys. They're just boobs," Natasha grumbled, making Clint laugh.

Steve stammered, "Warning would be appreciated next time, ma'am," and made Clint laugh harder.

Tony snapped his fingers, "Here's an idea. Natasha walks through Moscow naked, and no one will ever notice the star spangled man with a plan or the god of thunder cruising around looking for bad guys."

"Not going to happen, Stark," the red head said plainly.

Unable to switch off his scientific mind in the same way Tony couldn't switch of his mechanical one, Bruce mentioned, "You should get that mole looked at."

"Shut it, Banner."

Feeling a bit bad for his overly embarrassed fiancé, Tony walked across the hold and stroked one of Steve's broad shoulders, "Don't worry, she's putting the breasts away."

The red reached Steve's ears. "You're not helping," he mumbled.

Once Natasha was clothed in the short dress, things in the jet calmed considerably. While Clint changed, Tony went to the cockpit to ask the pilot if there was any spare gear on board. He pointed Tony to a supply cabinet that had several pairs of black cargo pants and black t-shirts that were meant to be worn under a bulletproof vest. Tony went through them to find Steve's size and picked out a similar size for Thor, hoping it was close enough. He tossed the clothes at the appropriate Avengers.

Steve held up the industrial-looking pants, his disbelief as plain as his distaste for the clothing, "This won't be obvious?"

"In Russia? No," Natasha said, her gaze going to Thor as the demi-god got out of his armor. Tony was expecting some kind of response from Clint, but the archer didn't say a word. Natasha continued, "You put on those combat boots from the next cabinet and you'll fit in just fine. Well, Thor will anyway."

Thor grinned like a pleased child and slipped the shirt over his nest of blonde hair.

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"Keep your eyes open," Steve's voice said softly in his ear, reassuringly calm.

Tony walked arm in arm with Natasha down the streets of Moscow. When he answered, he turned his face towards her as if she was the one he was talking to, "This isn't my first rodeo, babe."

"Just stay safe."

"I will," Tony assured him.

Natasha laughed and leaned into him for show, alarming Tony with how well she mimicked normal emotions. The Natasha he was familiar with only cracked a smile if she thought someone else would find it amusing in context, so to have her act so average was beyond strange. Tony rolled with it the best he could, trying to ignore how cold it was in Russia during the spring.

At least he had a long-sleeve shirt, Natasha's dress was strapless and so short that Tony preferred she not bend over in it. The bite of near freezing air didn't seem to faze her. She'd grown up with this weather, so Tony figured this probably wasn't all that cold for her. He could see his breath misting in front of his face and there was a white sheen of ice crusted in the corners of buildings where the sun couldn't reach. Tony wanted a coat and a cup of hot coffee.

"This is your first time in Russia, da?" Natasha asked, her accent thick and heavy, making her syllables sharper.

"No, but I usually come in the summer." Tony suppressed a shiver and muttered, "Fuck, it's cold. No wonder you moved."

"I did not move for weather," she dragged out the 'o' in 'move' and completely dropped the 'a' from 'weather'.

The accent was too much for Tony. It was like watching a bad mobster movie. He was almost expecting her to pull a cigarette out of her cleavage and light up before the big gun fight. Tony smirked down at her, "Why did you leave? Did you want a good American husband?"

Natasha's elbow bit into his ribs and forced the air out of him in a rush. Rubbing the sore spot, Tony wasn't dissuaded by her warning glare, "I mean, Clint is a decent choice, but how much money could he possibly make? You should aim higher if you're planning on being a trophy wife."

"Keep talking, Stark. You're about to find out how dangerous Russia can be," Natasha growled through her smile.

"Oh, don't be that way. Clint is a fine catch if you don't want expensive things."

"You know I'm on the radio, right? I can hear you."

Tony pulled Natasha closer with an arm at her waist, well aware that Clint probably had them in his sights, "Did you hear a bird chirping, darling? Or was that a hawk?"

"Focus," Steve reminded them.

"Buzz kill," Tony quipped back.

They came out from between the buildings onto a street that ran along the river. Moscow's business district grew at the fringes of the water like glass reeds, stretching into the clouds. In the tradition of most metropolitan cities, the skyscrapers were an eclectic mix of styles and shapes. Shorter builders hunched in the shadows of the towers, scavengers waiting to pick up broken business deals and wayward executives. Tony had been in a number of the skyscrapers and could name the owners for several of them.

They moved toward downtown, pausing occasionally for Natasha to feign interest at a window. At the edge of his vision, Tony saw Steve and Thor enter the river road a quarter mile behind them. Tony could appreciate the all black outfit. Steve looked more dangerous in it, it suited his abilities, but there was no way he'd abandon the red, white, and blue to wear Navy-Seal-gone-rogue.

Briefly, he met Steve's gaze across the distance and then the pair of blondes cut down a different street. They were drawing attention, just no more than two attractive men would anywhere. A gaggle of girls squealed once they were gone, talking excitedly in Russian. As the group passed Tony, he caught fragments of their conversation. While his Russian was limited to business lingo, he knew enough to recognize they were talking about Steve's ass. One girl with unruly brown hair loudly insisted that Thor was handsomer just before they passed out of earshot.

Tony shook his head.

"We're coming up on the building from the east," Clint informed them. "No sign of her yet."

"There is no evidence of our enemy in this vicinity either."

Once Thor cleared the line, Steve added, "But this entrance is completely blocked off by construction. No one's getting in here."

Tony peered up at the fifty-story building. It was older than some of the surrounding structures, still sporting the pre-Cold War stone masonry. A simple gold on black marble sign hung over the double doors. Tony could read the word 'Incorporated', but he wasn't familiar with the remainder of the title.

The courtyard was deserted. A group of three men in dark suits clustered around the door, leaning in to get cigarettes started on one lighter. They watched Natasha and Tony come up the short flights of stairs that led to the entrance. Even if there was something suspicious in the way their eyes tracked them to the door, none of them moved to stop the pair.

Unlike the outside, the interior of the building was streamline and updated. Tony immediately decided he liked it. The chairs that flanked the security desk were armless and, Tony assumed, far too chic to be comfortable.

The desk itself was one large, curved piece of smoky glass that had to have cost a fortune. As they passed over the pristine, white marble entryway, Tony scanned the people populating the room. It was easy to tell those who were trained from those who weren't. There were some men and women who took immediate, but not obvious attention to them, watching them out of their peripherals. They were the ones that continued to converse as though Tony Stark hadn't just sauntered into their workplace.

The ones who stopped dead in their tracks to stare were regular cubicle grunts that probably answered phones. One apple-shaped woman dropped her files, squealed in the same pitch as a twelve-year-old, and ran at him with pen in hand. Her frenzied Russian was hard to follow. Tony took the pen and asked her to slow down so he could understand her.

While he signed a few scraps of paper, Natasha went to the security desk. Tony couldn't hear what she said over the loud, persistent praise from the roundish fan. Whatever it was, it was plenty convincing for the man at the desk. The graying guard got on the phone and Natasha leaned her hip on the counter while she waited.

Finally managing to get disengaged from the enthusiastic woman, Tony joined the spy in time for all of the sleeper agents to pull out their guns. The regular employees were hustled upstairs by a handful of guards in security uniforms, the woman who asked for his autograph loudly proclaiming that they couldn't arrest Tony even while they bodily dragged her across the lobby.

Tony raised his eyebrows as he was faced with more gun muzzles than he cared to count, tossing out, "Did you forget to get reservations, honey? I told you there weren't overly fond of walk-ins."

Flat-faced and entirely unimpressed by the show of power, Natasha said, "Tell him the Widow is here, offering her services."

An agent in a nice, handmade wool suit lowered his gun, his jade eyes glinting with suspicion. A few years younger than Tony, the man held himself as if he was in charge. He barked at the others in Russian and leered at Natasha as his division surrounded them. Using heavy, broken English, he snarled, "What does American defector think she would be needed for here?"

"When he has a dozen rent-a-cops, who knows why your boss would need an elite super spy," Tony shrugged, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops.

The suit jabbed a tobacco-stained finger against Tony's sternum, right above the reactor, "And why would big name jerk off like Tony Stark be doing with traitor spy? We do not hire vigilante patriots."

Tony flashed him a dangerous grin, "Trust me, you can't afford me."

The lead agent pressed a flesh tone earpiece deeper into his ear, listening to someone of higher authority. What he heard made him curl his lip and flick his hand at the elevator, saying, 'Go, take them,' in his mother tongue. The plain-clothes agents tried to move them towards the elevator as a unit, but Natasha groaned and pushed through them.

"Move, children," she growled and stalked to the head of the group.

Tony barely kept his laughter contained. These people had no idea how far out of their league they were. They didn't try to get her back in hand, since she was going the direction they wanted. The trip up the tower was uncomfortably slow for Tony, especially wedged between six angry Russians with guns and one temperamental ex-Russian with several guns. And knives, and tasers set to 'kill', and other weapons Tony could only speculate about. If they searched her, it would take an hour to disarm her properly.

"You guys should consider updating your elevator. My tower in Manhattan is twice as tall as this one and the ride takes half the time." The silence didn't dissuade him from making small talk. His nonsense was designed to inform the others what was going on without being too obvious about it. He'd never been one for awkward silences either, so it worked two ways.

"Guys, I think I just found one of the trucks," Banner said Tony's ear bud, uncertain enough that he was dying to ask for details.

Natasha tilted her head at the statement and gave Tony a meaningful look. If Banner was right, then they didn't have long.

Clint came on after him, "Steve, you're the closest to Banner's position."

"Was there on the word fix," Steve replied.

Tony had long ago adjusted to the Captain's occasional antiquated euphemism. This was one of those things. He felt a bit smug when he knew exactly what Steve meant and Clint was the one asking for clarification.

"Be there in a second," Steve rephrased with an annoyed exhale the microphone at his collar barely caught.

The elevator door slid aside to reveal a taupe and chrome hallway with a trio of additional agents standing in the middle. The new group was in more traditional gear, bearing assault rifles. Natasha and Tony walked between them, past floor to ceiling windows that opened onto conference rooms. The cherry wood tables were all vacant, the chairs arranged perfectly around them.

They were ushered into the office at the end of the hall. Tony looked around casually while he strolled to the brushed silver desk in the center of the room. The man sitting with his hands folded on the surface was in his sixties, at least, but his thick head of hair and bushy beard were dye-box blonde. When he smiled at them, his forehead and the corners of his eyes didn't move.

Tony held the view that people should let themselves age naturally. He could afford to get enough surgery to look like a teenager, but people who couldn't make facial expressions always disturbed him. It reminded him of late nights curled close to the TV, watching Invasion of the Body Snatchers.

A cordial Russian greeting followed the frozen smile and the man switched over to English, "What brings the turn-coat Widow back to my service? And with company. Welcome, Mr. Stark. I'm sure your little pet spy has told you all about me, but let me introduce myself." He came around the desk and stuck his out hand with another emotionless smile, "Konstantin Volkov, it's a pleasure to meet an engineering genius such as yourself. I wish I had someone like you on my payroll."

Tony shook the offered hand, "No, you really don't."

"We're here about Golovin."

Konstantin's face darkened at Natasha's statement. Withdrawing to the other side of the desk, the man turned to his panoramic view of the Moskva River. He linked his fingers behind his back, a thick, gold ring glinting on his middle digit. He spoke to the glass, "Raisa left here over a month ago. We have not seen her."

"That's because she's been in America making an army," Tony deadpanned and came around the other side of the desk. "We think she's headed here, if she's not here already."

Natasha added, "You need to evacuate the building."

The Russian's tight mouth twitched. Underneath his Botox and implants, Tony could see apprehension. Not for the first time, Tony wondered what they'd done to this woman to make her break so badly. The secret stood beside him in two forms, the man who'd ordered the work and the woman who'd completed it. They'd transformed a doctor into a killing machine without gamma radiation or advanced technology or a mutant virus. They'd made her that way by breaking her down so far that there was nothing left behind.

Tony knew Natasha was not proud of what happened, but the bear-like head of the military faction held no remorse, only a sickening fear of the consequences.

"You knew she was unstable, why did you keep her here?" Natasha asked softly, her voice oddly tender.

The big man snorted and glanced at her, "Keep your fake sentiment. You're wasting your time. Her work was too valuable to let her go, so we did what we had to. I knew she would come sooner or later, it was just a matter of when and with what force at her back."

"That would be now, and an army of mutated convicts with enough strength to rip you in half. So maybe we should be more concerned with emptying out the building," Tony cut in.

He'd made a few calculations in his head and was extremely concerned about how long it would take to empty a fifty story tower. If Scorn was close, they wouldn't have near enough time. There would be a massacre if they didn't act quickly.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Steve found the white panel eighteen-wheeler a few blocks from the office building. It had Russian plates, but was an American brand, strangely out of place in a city of smooth-edged vehicles. Feeling bare without his shield, Steve approached cautiously. The alley around the truck was empty, no cars or civilians moving anywhere on the short block. Steve glanced in every direction for potential threats as he crossed the road.

When he got to the back, he had to step over an unconscious guard. Steve looked into the trailer with some trepidation, worried that he'd find Banner in his Hulk form. Instead, human-sized Bruce was going through a crate full of vials.

The doctor looked at him over his wire-frame glasses and followed his gaze back to the guard, "Oh, I just hit him between the Atlas and Axis vertebrae, temporarily terminating his nervous process. He'll be fine."

Steve leapt nimbly into the truck and walked through the wide aisle the boxes left. Boot marks and scuffs covered the floor, giving Steve the impression that there were men lined up from front to back. Estimating based on the length of the trailer, Steve thought they might be looking for at least two-dozen men. Maybe more. All of the crates along the left side of the cargo hold were open, custom cut packing foam pulled aside to reveal rows and rows of hypodermic vials. Steve didn't have to guess what it was.

Banner braced one hand on the side of a crate and took his glasses off, "This should be everything. Tony said the medical supplies were loaded primarily onto one truck, most of the others carrying weapons and ammo. If we…" He pinched the bridge of his nose as if he was trying to relieve a headache, "If we destroy these crates, we can cut off her ability to make more of those things."

Steve listened to him respectfully, holding back the anger he'd had for Bruce since he'd found out about the serum. All of the work at the tower was lost with the destruction of Tony's servers and everything in Scorn's warehouse was obliterated by Tony's pyrotechnics. Steve was aware that the vials surrounding them were all Bruce had left of his research for stabilizing the Hulk.

"You sure?" was all he asked.

Bruce caught his meaning and sadness flickered across his strained features before he forced a smile, "Yes. The other guy was never really fond of the idea anyway."

Steve nodded solemnly, "Let's get to work."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

TBC…

Almost done. If I had to guess, I would say I can finish this in two chapters, but it may just be one long one. Haven't decided yet.


	13. Lambs to Slaughter

"Steve, get out here. We've got movement," Clint said in the soldier's ear.

Steve put down the crate he was helping Bruce load with as many of the vials as they could. The evacuation had started, but Clint hadn't reported anyone going in or out so far. The stream of updates from Tony said they were trying to get the levels cleared, but the people in the building weren't overly enthusiastic about a 'fire drill' when it was so cold outside. The younger man's aggravation was more apparent every time he checked in.

"Going to go see what's happening, you keep working," Steve said and jumped out of the trailer.

Behind him, Bruce made an affirmative noise and continued combining the contents of the crates. The fewer boxes they had to carry off for disposal, the better. Steve just hoped he didn't get the idea to inject himself with anything. He'd never get used to how recklessly curious their scientists were. There was far too much self-experimentation going on when it came to Bruce and Tony. When they couldn't get any volunteers, they became their own guinea pigs, and that frustrated Steve endlessly.

As Steve hurried down the alley, he asked Clint, "What's going on? Are the civilians coming out?"

"No, not yet, but I've got a few guys collecting on the nearby roofs and the traffic around the front of the building just got heavier. I think they're moving in."

"Shoot," Steve spit and picked up his pace. "Tony, did you hear that? Take the civilians out a back route. Do you copy?"

"I copy… hang on, something's going on in here."

The line was silent for a moment and Steve came out of the alley, scanning the area with an analytical eye. There were more people in the courtyard, most of them men. All of the buildings surrounding the manicured entry to the tower were only a few stories tall and the ones in the most strategic places had one or two people on top of them now. Steve could see exactly what was going on. It was a snare. As civilians came out of the building, there would be nowhere for them to go. They'd get butchered.

Tony came back on the line, his tone concerned, "They're saying that a few of the emergency exits are blocked by the construction. Steve, she's rigged the damn building so they have to come out the front."

Thor ran around the side of the building, slowing as he took in the milling 'crowds' that were steadily growing on the pathways through the lawn. The demi-god got close enough to Steve that he could keep his voice low, "The gates at every side of the structure are melted shut. Our foe is funneling her victims like prey animals."

"Tony and Nat, keep them inside at all costs. Clint, take out the roof rats. Bruce, finish disposing of that serum, we don't want her coming back for it. Thor," he met the other man's determined gaze, knowing they'd have to hold the hoard back on their own. "Time to call your hammer."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Tony chased Konstantin through the offices as the man continued to order an evacuation, "No, you don't get it. She's set a trap out there, we have to keep them inside or everyone will be killed. It's too late for this."

The plain-clothes agents, armed agents, and guards were all directing traffic to the stairwells. The only advantage Tony had was that the employees didn't want to evacuate. They all seemed to think it was some kind of drill and kept stopping to talk to other workers or wander back to their desks. They were on one of the higher floors, so the employees were better paid and a bit stubborn.

Konstantin waved a thick arm at Tony to dismiss him, "My agents will handle Miss Golovin and her freaks."

Tony got around in front of him, warning, "Your agents can't handle her. You need to keep your people inside!"

The bear of a man scoffed and pushed by him, his shoulder checking Tony hard enough to make him stumble back a step. There wasn't any arguing with him. Tony looked across the trickle of evacuating employees at Natasha, silently asking her what they should do next. The redhead turned her palms to the ceiling. Without any suggestions, the best Tony could come up with was to get downstairs and block off the main door. There wasn't a PA system he could hack into to tell them the fire drill was over, but there were other ways to get the message across.

Tony cut through the crowd to get to Natasha, "What if we get into the security communications? If we tell the guards it was a false alarm, we might be able to keep everyone from-"

A scream trampled the din of the evacuation, "Where is she, Konstantin?"

Scattered conversations sputtered and died as Scorn stepped off the elevator with four men. She'd changed out of the summer dress and into form-fitting black pants, boots, and a winter coat lined with fox fur. Her hair was wild, spilling unchecked down her back. The men were unarmed, but Tony remembered what they were capable of.

Tony brushed his thumb over the metal bands at his wrists, activating the MARK VII, "Scorn is here, she's inside the building. We need an out for these civilians, does anyone copy?"

The comm crackled with unsettling silence. Tony's stomach clenched. The only option would be to keep the fighting focused on them with the hopes they could draw the battle away from the building.

The crowd parted for Konstantin, letting him through with an undercurrent of curiosity. Muttering filled the room like wind moving through dry grass. Konstantin studied the men on either side of her before he offered, "Come back to work and stop this nonsense, and I'll arrange a visit for the two of you."

Raisa's eyes narrowed, "You will produce her, or you will die. I can assure you it will not be merciful."

Tony's mind cranked over and started humming. There had to be more to this than he was assuming. The more the thought about it, the less he believed this was about revenge. This woman didn't come across the ocean to steal secrets from the world's only superhero task force just so she could kill a few people, or even a tower full of people.

"Raisa," Natasha called as she broke out of the crowd, Tony fighting through the stagnant workers to keep up. She came up on Konstantin's left, "If you want a fight, fine, but leave these people out of it."

A brittle, wretched laugh exploded out of Scorn, "You still think this is about you? You're just the rabid dog that killed my husband. I'll have you put down when the time comes." Tony didn't think he showed any surprise, but Raisa flashed him a feral smile that was almost a grimace, "Oh, didn't you know? You sister-in-arms broke into my home-"

"Stop it," Natasha said.

Raisa approached the redhead, her voice rising, "tied my husband and I to chairs facing one another-"

"Stop."

"And proceeded to take him apart piece by piece," the smaller woman was almost vibrating with rage, her eyes shimmering in the fluorescent lights.

Natasha was unmoved, but Tony had to put his hand against the wall to stabilize himself. He couldn't imagine watching Steve get brutally murdered and dissected. Even considering it made his mind skitter away like a frightened animal. In defense, equations to boost the connection between the wristbands and his suit burst forward with soothing control. He solved the problem in a few seconds, even considering the potential of the shadowing effect created by structures and dense objects between the two receivers, and was able to refocus on the arguing women.

Tony knew Natasha had a sorted history, that she'd killed more people than Tony had probably met in his life, but torture was something else. He'd lived through torture. Though it had been years, he still woke up screaming some nights, coming down out of the haze to find Steve crooning comforting words to him as he stroked his hair. He couldn't quite bring himself to look at the spy.

Eyes still glistening with unshed tears, Scorn said, "Kill them all."

The room erupted in a flurry of movement. Scorn's men ripped into their bigger forms, the sound of tearing fabric muddled by the panicked screams of the office employees. At the first roar from the tallest abomination, the workers were climbing over each other to get to the stairs. As the panic spread through the tower, Tony knew they would all be running for the blocked entrances. They would die exactly how Scorn wanted them to, by taking the only exit they had and walking into the hands of a dozen more creatures just like the ones they ran from.

Quicker than a snake, Natasha lunged for Raisa. Her knife caught the gentle curve of the woman's cheek as Scorn jerked to the side to avoid it. A line of blood bloomed on her flesh, dripping to her jaw. Natasha brought the knife out of the thrust, spinning it in her hand to bring it in the other way. Before it could connect with Raisa's temple, the closest abomination caught the nape of Natasha's neck with a hand so large it wrapped around the lower half of her face. He threw her into a wall and she collapsed on the floor.

The agents and guards opened fire on Scorn's creatures, the bullets bouncing off their skin, barely more than beestings. Frantically wondering why his suit hadn't arrived yet, Tony dove out of the way. He dropped behind a desk and army-crawled across the high-weave carpet as bullets whizzed overhead.

"And whose fucking idea was it that I come up here?" Tony grumbled.

He came around the edge of the furniture and searched for Natasha. She wasn't where she fell. Konstantin and Scorn were also missing, leaving Tony with a room full of chaos. One by one, the firing guns were silenced. The crowd of civilians jammed up against the emergency exit, some of them still exposed to attack. Tony couldn't wait for his suit. Without the agents to fight, Scorn's men turned their attention to the employees.

Tony scrambled for a weapon, grabbing a desk chair by the headrest. He ran at the tall, pale creature whose skull was nearly scraping the nine-foot ceiling and slung the chair into his side. The leather split open as the seat came apart, yellowed stuffing scattering across the floor. With a snarl, the abomination whipped around. His growl caught the interest of the others, but he was the only one that stalked toward Tony.

Fear fluttering in his chest, Tony backed away. He didn't exactly have a plan beyond getting the thing's attention. Now that he had it, all he could do was stare at the creature's wide, flaring nostrils and the drool sliding down from the large canines that overlapped his upper lip. The floor rattled under Tony's feet with each step the thing took

Moving towards the bay windows, Tony spoke into the comm, "If anyone spots the MARK VII wandering around, tell him he's fired, and then put in the override codes so I don't die up here."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

There were too many. They were everywhere, all towering masses of muscle harder to kill than a cockroach infestation, and Steve was fighting with his bare hands. Thor wasn't fairing any better. Every time he reached out to call his hammer, one of the creatures slammed into him. They'd strapped Steve's shield to the hammer in the hopes that they would both show up when Thor called Mjölnir. The metal disk had to be slowing the hammer down, hindering its flight, because it didn't normally take so long.

Steve tried to keep himself positioned between the beasts and the entrance to the building. Beside him, Thor returned their loud roars, his fists held out to his sides in a challenge. Not for the first time, Steve thought he was crazy. They'd already been slammed around like toys, and he didn't think Scorn's troops needed any provoking. Steve's right eye had blood crusted in the corner from a head wound and his shoulder ached fiercely because one of the things had grabbed his arm and used it to sling him into a light post.

They came at them in groups, which was probably Steve's only saving grace. When three or four of them were reaching for him at once, it was easy to avoid them. Killing them was a whole different matter.

"Clint!" Steve shouted as he did a somersault over a diving creature. His foot touched down on the thing's scaly back and he pushed off just before another tackled the place where he'd been standing. The two beasts collided with a crunch. "Tell me you've got the roofs clear! We need a place for the jet to land! Tony's suit-"

"Yeah, I'm working on it. Keep your pants on."

He could see the Hawk high above them, loosing arrow after arrow at men with rifles. The assassin was taking a lot of fire. He needed an assist. They all did. There were only six or seven men left for Clint to handle and Steve trusted he would get it done.

The jet came screaming in, but stayed high like Steve instructed. He'd seen too many aircraft get taken down by these creatures. They could jump a lot higher than any pilot ever considered. A large Gatling gun clanked out of the underbelly, spewing a line of fire into the abominations. Several creatures blocked their faces with their hands, aware of their only real vulnerably, others dropped as high caliber bullets passed through their heads.

"Banner, did you find an out for the civilians?"

Steve charged a sulfur-colored creature that walked on its knuckles like an ape. When the thing put all of his weight on his fists and kicked both feet forward, Steve dropped to his knees and slid under him. On the other side, he snatched a long piece of broken lamppost, holding it braced against the concrete at an angle. The abomination launched at him and Steve brought the end up into his abdomen. It pierced the thick skin, the creature's momentum driving him down onto the wrought iron.

Bruce's voice stuttered slightly, "I- I can't. These doors are welded shut, with- without changing, I can't."

"Those things are coming downstairs," Natasha growled, "And the people in the lobby are about to be rabid with fear, I can't keep them in here any longer."

Steve saw Thor get clear and raise his hand to the sky. The jet dipped, the engines whining loudly with strain, and the hammer and shield rolled awkwardly out of the open hatch. Before they could fly to the demi-god's palm, he got hit from behind and the weapons fell from the sky. They disappeared at the south end of the courtyard. Steve heard the bang like a cannon going off when the hammer hit concrete.

"Bruce, we could use your help," Steve said as he dodged around two approaching behemoths and ran for the weapons.

"I can't control him. What if he attacks the civilians that come out of the building? Steve- I… I can't."

"I've got an idea. Trust me on this, Banner," Natasha told him.

The red and white stripes shone in the sun as a beacon. Steve sprinted for them. At the top of the tower, something crashed through a window and Steve's stomach turned over. Just a few feet from his shield, he looked up into the sun to see a body careening towards earth. The glare made it impossible to discern who it was. Heart crashing against his ribcage, Steve tensed to race back to the base of the building.

He hadn't taken a step when Tony's voice came on, cynical and level, "Seriously, has anyone seen my suit? Is it still on the damn plane? I'm only going to fool one of these things into jumping out a window."

Steve didn't have time to be relieved. He snatched the shield, yanking Mjölnir's handle out of the straps so he could slip his arm through the thick pieces of leather. Without thinking twice, Steve took the demi-god's hammer in his other hand and launched back into the fight. The weapon was lighter than it looked.

Twisting his body to throw all of his mass behind the hammer, Steve slammed one of the creatures in the chest. The long-limbed beast soared over the fight as if he'd grown wings. Steve stared at the enchanted weapon in his hand, realizing for the first time that he'd been able to lift it where no one but Thor could. He knew the story of Mjölnir, the hammer than could only be wielded by those worthy.

The reason would have to wait. Thor needed his weapon. Using shield and hammer in tandem, Steve bashed his way through Scorn's sloppy ranks. Natasha bolted around the corner of the building and the red of her dress grabbed Steve's attention for a half second before the Hulk came tearing after her. Whatever Natasha had done to get his attention had worked. Banner was gaining on her, but the moment he saw the hoard in the courtyard, something like glee entered his eyes. The spy completely forgotten, the Hulk leapt at the nearest abomination and shoved its head into the concrete.

Steve found a clear line of sight to Thor and yelled, "Thor! Catch!" as he threw Mjölnir to its wielder.

The demi-god's surprise was limited to the seconds before the hammer hit his hand. As soon as he had the weapon, he lifted it above his head to catch a lightning strike that came from a clear, blue sky. His armor collected over him, appearing as if the surge of electricity brought it down out of the upper hemisphere. Which was possible for all Steve knew.

"Alright, the roofs are clear," Clint stated into the comm.

Steve hadn't even given the order, but the jet lowered onto the building farthest from the fighting. With Thor at full strength and Banner involved, Steve felt secure enough in their position to temporarily break away. He had to get Tony his suit. He wasn't fond of the idea of Tony going in without it in the first place, but when Tony said it would respond to his call, Steve had let it go. Now, he wished he hadn't.

Slinging his shield on his back, Steve ran down the narrow road between the buildings, his eyes set on a fire escape. He jumped nimbly to grab the second story railing and hauled himself over. Not bothering with the ladder, Steve bounded from one floor to the next, balancing on the rails as easily as if they were solid ground.

His higher vantage point let him see the streets beyond the courtyard. SHIELD was on the roads in force, holding back civilians and reporters and even Moscow police. Steve wasn't sure if they'd been keeping their distance until Scorn showed herself, or if they were just late. It didn't matter as long as they kept anyone else from crossing into the line of fire.

Clearing the low brick wall that bordered the edge of the building, Steve ran for the open jet. Hawkeye continued to let arrows fly from his position on the corner of the roof. The master archer looked over his shoulder at Steve, undoubtedly still hitting every target, "The pilot says the suit's not responding. Damn thing probably got damaged in the last fight. Stark didn't exactly get a chance to fix it."

Steve was aware Tony hadn't had the time to work on it. If they hadn't been screwing around, he would've seen to it the minute he got out of bed. It couldn't be changed and Steve tried not to dwell on the past. He'd drive himself crazy with the regrettable choices he'd made and the present needed his attention too much to lament what he could've done differently.

Vaulting up the access ramp, Steve went to Tony's armor and knelt to examine it. The light on the front of the capsule was dark. Steve scanned over the red, metal surface. There wasn't a keyboard or pin pad or a button of any kind he could use to enter the codes. Frantically, Steve wondered why he was the one doing this.

"Tony, I'm at your suit. Tell me what to do."

When Tony answered, he was out of breath, "The launch code is your birthday, and before you get all choked up about that, I did it so I could remember what day it was."

Steve knew him too well to be offended by Tony's flippancy. The billionaire would forget his own birthday if Jarvis didn't remind him every year. "How do I put in the code?" Steve questioned as he slid his hands over the smooth surface, still searching for a latch.

After a pause, Tony spoke with a touch of forced humor, "Is there anyone else up there I could explain this to?"

"Clint's busy. Start talking," Steve ordered.

"Alright, fine. You need to find the manual release under the… Raisa, no! Stop!"

The muscle on Steve's jaw jumped at the sudden silence on the other end. "Tony?" he tried, and again, "Tony?"

There was no answer.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Blood and brain matter dripped down the white wall, almost a splash of paint if no one looked too closely. The round that caused it was high caliber and imbedded in the drywall, leaving a crater the red filled then spilled out of like a fresh wound. Slumped on the floor, Konstantin's large frame counted for very little. He was hunched and broken. The dark gore at the back of his head provided bleak contrast to his bleach-blonde hair, the smaller entry wound in front not nearly as graphic. A narrow trail of blood ran down the curvature of Konstantin's face, along his nose and through the nearly non-existent crease beside his mouth.

His lips thinning into a grimace, Tony closed his eyes against the red. When he opened them again, they stuck on the smoking pistol in Raisa's slender hand. The smell of gunpowder hung heavy with the scents of death, the result of machine and man clashing.

Tony had followed them through a network of rooms and halls to what he assumed was a maintenance corridor, led by a trail of dead and wounded guards. This part of the building was nearly barren beyond a computer terminal embedded in the wall, and a gray, metal door. He'd come into the hall as Konstantin's brain turned into projectile paint.

Raisa put the gun in a holster on her hip, dropping her coat over it. Her monstrosities were thankfully absent, but Tony was aware they were wreaking havoc in the building. Grabbing the dead man under the arms, the tiny woman dragged him in jerks across the floor, headed for the computer. Smears of blood followed Konstantin's feet like a morbid version of breadcrumbs. Tony spotted the thumb scanner hooked into the terminal and realized what she was doing.

"He wouldn't open the door for you, would he?"

"Stay out of this, Mr. Stark. I think I've proven what I'll do if you don't," she grunted as she struggled with Konstantin's mass.

With her arms full, Tony decided to risk it. He charged her. Faster than Tony anticipated, Raisa dropped the body and whipped the gun out of its holster. The barrel pressed against his forehead as he careened to a stop. He looked down the length of her arm to her serene face. There was nothing but determination in the dark, stagnant pools of her eyes.

"You're a lot like him," she whispered, one finger uncurling to point at the floor and Konstantin. "Stubborn. Willful. Men like you would rather die than give in, and I happen to be willing to oblige you. So, here is the question, Mr. Stark, will you open that door, or will you make me destroy a beautifully brilliant mind?"

"Depends," Tony said.

"On what?"

"On whether or not you're going to shoot me on the other side of the door. Because I could develop a touch of Stockholm syndrome if you leave me alive, and that would possibly be more embarrassing than dying with the Russian bear at your feet," Tony stalled. The trigger spring clicked rapidly as it tightened and Tony added, "But I wouldn't be lying if I said I had sympathy for your cause."

Scorn titled her head, her hair sliding over her shoulder.

Playing his hunch, Tony kept talking, "But, how can you be sure she's here? If he moved her to some other facility, you'll never know about it now that he's dead. How are you going to find her?"

"And am I to believe you're going to help me? I'm no fool, I know you'll say anything you can to survive. I don't need your help. This is my responsibility."

"For it being your fight, you sure brought in a lot of…" Tony drew in air through his teeth as if he was trying to find the right word, "society's refuse to back you up."

There was a crash somewhere far behind them, then another crash closer. The corner of Tony's mouth twitched. Steve had come through after all. He'd kiss the man the first moment he got. Knowing his suit was only seconds away, Tony grabbed Raisa's gun when her attention was diverted by the noise of the approaching MARK.

A deafening bang went off right against Tony's ear. He jerked away from it with a shout, his hearing on that side reduced to a high-pitched tone. It gave Raisa a chance to wrest the pistol from him. She brought it up between them and Tony hit the inside of her arm with his palm. The pistol went off again, the bullet ricocheting off the floor. Darting out of the path of his right hook, Raisa aimed at his head. Tony caught her wrist and twisted it. The gun fell from Raisa's hand as a pained shout exploded from her lips.

Bits of plaster and wood showered the room behind them and the MARK VII blasted down the hallway. Tony stepped back into it, holding his arms out so the machine could close around him. The device separated and latched onto the bracelets, bands of metal snapping shut in perfect symmetry up his wrists and biceps. He could hear the heavier chest pieces clanking into position as Raisa picked up her gun. The suit sealed up over his stomach. She took aim, her green and gold eyes intent. A sinking feeling gripped Tony's guts as the calculations burst through his mind. It would be a difference of microseconds.

The muzzle flashed and Tony heard the glass shatter as the bullet hit its target. His chest spasmed with the impact. Tony spun to the side, coming down on his knees as the suit closed over the broken reactor. Fractures spider-webbed across the floor when the weight of the suit dropped on it. Tony fell forward onto his hands and made the cracks in the faux marble worse. Vaguely, he was aware of Raisa walking by him. He reached for her, but missed.

Gasping, Tony cried, "Jarvis, damage readout."

The HUD flashed and sputtered, but eventually steadied. Schematics of the reactor jumped in front of his eyes, glaring red. The suit was only getting twenty percent power from the arc, and that number was fluctuating rapidly. Suddenly, the reactor gave out. The projection vanished, leaving him staring through the tiny slits in his mask.

Agony burned through his chest. Tony curled his hands into fists, his body shaking inside the suit. A long, ragged scream forced its way past his teeth. Contained in the helmet, it made the ringing in Tony's ears increase until he couldn't hear anything else. In his nightmares, he could feel the shrapnel moving like living things through his tissue. The reality of it wasn't that different. Except the pain was consuming.

Tony's fingers scrambled uselessly on the front of his suit, metal scratching against metal. Sweat rolled off his forehead and into his eyes. The sting made him blink rapidly. He had to get out of his armor. He had to do repairs. The vibranium was still intact; it was the rest of the reactor that had taken the damage. Even as his heart's rhythm broke down into frantic fluttering, he was trying to figure out what he could use for tools.

His head started spinning as he sat up on his knees. Through the narrow eyeholes and his own dim vision, Tony saw someone approaching. The figure was a blur, just a shape at the end of the hall.

"Steve?" he croaked, hopeful.

As the figured got bigger, and bigger, Tony knew better. A gigantic fist slammed into his chest, sending him skimming across the floor like a stone. Tony slid on his side into the door. Scorn's monster approached with thudding footsteps that rattled Tony where he lay. With his helmet against the ground, he watched the fissures in the floor spread as heavily veined, purplish feet slapped towards him.

The HUD sparked, and then flared with the damage report for the reactor. Tony shook his head when his vision filled with light. For a moment, he thought he'd been very, very wrong about what happened to people when they died, but then the wireframes of the reactor swam into view. Several interior parts were blinking, their status critical. He'd be lucky if it stayed operational for any length of time. If he could get back to the others, he could get Bruce to work on it. Banner was the only one knowledgeable enough to even try.

"Sir," Jane's voice had never sounded so good, "The reactor has come back online. We are functioning at twenty-five percent power and holding, but the damage is extensive."

The electromagnet in his chest went back to work and Tony could breathe again. He struggled to his hands and knees, but the creature was already above him. He swung both hands high above his head and brought them down into Tony's back. The suit clanged against the floor. Before Tony could move, the thing smacked a foot in the middle of his spine, grinding him against the broken marble.

When he lifted his foot to repeat the process, Tony blindly held up his hand and blasted him with the repulsor. The thing stumbled back with a cry. As it reached the middle of the hall, the ground gave out beneath them. The freefall was short. Tony clattered against the floor on the level below, groaning softly as he stood. Debris continued to rain down around them, dust settling on the shoulders of Tony's armor as he surveyed the area. There weren't many differences from the floor above. Sterile white walls, a computer terminal, and a security door.

The deep, bruise colored abomination bristled, his teeth bared at Tony. Spit flecked from his mouth with his snarl, the bunched muscles in his upper body rippling as the thing barreled down the narrow hall. Tony fired off his flares and leapt over the abomination, his rockets giving him just enough boost to get over. When his feet hit the floor, he went right through.

"Son of a bitch," Tony yelled as he crashed through the next two levels.

He landed on one knee, putting out his hands to steady himself. High above him, the abomination roared and ripped through the hole he'd made. Every pound of his heart made his chest ache, the raging monster headed his way sending it into overdrive. Tony swallowed and exhaled to slow it down. He couldn't fight if he wasn't focused.

Casting around the room he'd fallen into, Tony decided it was a lab of some kind. It was completely open, with cabinets along the walls and overburdened desks set up in rows through the middle. He'd taken one out when he fell and now there were shards of beaker all over the floor. None of the liquid was smoking, so Tony figured he wasn't in any immediate danger from the chemicals. He was a little more concerned with the hulking beast that dropped into the room after him.

"Alright, big guy, let's dance," Tony challenged without expecting an answer beyond an animalistic howl.

The extra space made it easier to move, letting Tony dart out of reach without going through another part of the building. He was liable to knock the whole structure down if he kept getting thrown through support beams. It would take a lot more than that to bring down a tower so big, but he did want to be careful. If just a few more floors collapsed, there could be a catastrophic failure to the surrounding levels that created a domino effect. He'd done enough damage now that he was concerned about using any explosives. There could still be survivors hiding in the building.

Tony ducked under a swipe and shot the last of his flares. While the creature pushed his hands into his eyes and yowled, Tony used small bursts of power to fly to the other side of the room. He tried to get enough distance between them so he could think, landing gently behind a lab table covered in paperwork. The gusts from his rockets sent the top layer of documents flapping into the air like pale moths. Tony crouched behind the cheap, pressboard cabinet and wracked his mind for ideas.

His repulsor blasts were only making the creature angry. The blue-white energy singed the thing's hair down to black nubs, but didn't seem to burn his skin. Without explosives, or his flight stabilizers, Tony was left with his cutting lasers. They were almost as threatening to the integrity of the building as the explosives, unless he used them very, very carefully.

Tony came out from his hiding place with a plan, or at least an idea, which was more than he typically approached a fight with. The beast spun around at the sound of his boots crushing the beaker fragments into dust. Fingers as thick as broom-handles flexed and curled as Tony approached, as if the dumb brute was trying to figure out what he was doing. Pug-like eyes flicked over Tony's suit. Whatever the thing decided, it snorted and came at him like a charging rhinoceros. The floor shook beneath Tony's feet.

Tony dodged to the left, close enough that the dark skin of the abomination's arm scraped against his chest plate. As it passed him, Tony leapt onto the creature's back. His aim was off and he ended up holding onto one shoulder and the thing's trapezius.

"Come on!" Tony shouted, trying to get his grip up around the thick neck.

With the thing twisting wildly and reaching for him, it was all Tony could do not to get thrown off. Digging the toes of his armor into the nearly indestructible skin, Tony slung the hand from his shoulder to the nape of his neck. His boots slid. Before he could lose anymore ground, Tony pressed his fist against the back of the thing's head and activated the laser. A bright glare of red filled his visor. The moment the straining, purple limbs dropped limply to the creature's sides, Tony shut off the cutting tool.

He dropped off the abomination with a sigh of relief, "Jarvis, connect me to the group comm."

"Of course, sir."

He caught the tail end of an argument between Clint and Natasha before the creature's body fell forward. The floor ruptured under the immense weight and Tony tumbled through, cussing. Bits of old rebar and plaster continued to fall on Tony long after he'd landed. He rolled onto his back and stared up through the series of holes he'd made, absently brushing away a chunk of ceiling tile that fell on his helmet.

"I can say with confidence that the people who commissioned this building were cheated out of good money. This thing would never survive in California, first quake would make it rubble," Tony commented with a weak chuckle.

Questions came rapid-fire from Steve, "Tony? Are you okay? What happened? Did the suit find you?"

"Did you figure it out all by your lonesome, or did Clint come rescue you from the technology?" Tony coughed when he meant to laugh. He sat up and bits of insulation slid off him. "I'm alright… actually, when you don't need Banner anymore, if you could convince him to take some Prozac, I'm going to need his help with my reactor."

"What's wrong with the reactor?" the concern in Steve's voice was thick, but Tony didn't hear him. "Are you sure you're okay?"

In the corner of the room, a pair of gold-green eyes stared at him from beneath a bed. Tony lowered himself slowly so he the light from his helmet illuminated the tight space. The girl, barely five, curled up as far against the wall as she could get, her black hair hanging in tendrils across her face. She studied him the way a rabbit would watch an approaching wolf.

Tony let out an exhale and said, "Steve, I'm going to have to call you back."

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TBC…

Before anyone asks, yes, Steve can pick up Thor's hammer. It's in the comics, so I ran with it. Don't know if they'll ever get around to that little fact in the movie-verse, but now you know. In the comics, Steve does get an insane rush of power from handling the hammer that I didn't go into.

Hopefully the last couple of pages make sense. It's four in the morning where I live… if they don't, I'll make edits like always.

Thanks for reading and reviewing, I love each and every comment you send me.


	14. Stained Innocence

God, this last chapter should have been split in two. Seriously.

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Whenever Tony clicked in and out of their group communications, he said just enough to let everyone know he was alive and then left Steve guessing if he was injured or needed backup. The last cryptic communiqué about getting Banner to calm down so he could help with the reactor set Steve's teeth on edge. He hadn't gotten the chance to tell Tony they were still neck-deep in a fight and Banner wouldn't be coming down out of his green rage anytime soon.

Even if it meant getting dumped, Steve was going to force Tony into some training classes at SHIELD so he'd know how to give a proper update. Steve had already been through Radio 101 back in the forties. Though a few rules might've changed, he assumed that 'leaving your teammates wondering' was still discouraged, especially when your teammate was your fiancé.

Forcing himself to trust Tony's abilities, Steve focused on the battle before him. The team was bloody and raw and exhausted. Even Thor was slowing down between foes, holding his hammer low as if he finally noticed the burden of lifting it. Nine of Scorn's creations faced them, the others spread across the courtyard, so many their bodies were piled two and three deep.

There had to have been more than one truck, Steve thought as he surveyed the carnage. Everything within the square block was completely destroyed. Cars parked in front of the smaller buildings were turned on their sides, or crunched flat from either hero or monster landing on them. All of the plant life was trampled, the dirt from the flowerbeds flung all over the sidewalks. Bits of building scattered through the area like an incomplete puzzle. A fire burned near the skyscraper, but Steve wasn't entirely sure what had caused it.

If some Russian diplomat didn't tear Fury a new asshole, Steve would be surprised, but at least they'd kept the destruction to one city block instead of a quarter of Moscow. It could've been much worse. They'd seen worse, though it didn't feel like it at the moment.

Steve wiped blood off his lip with the heel of his hand and darted for the next abomination that charged. The sudden advance took the lumbering creature off guard, letting Steve lob his shield into the thing's throat. It connected just beneath the ungainly Adam's apple. The disk came spinning back and Steve grabbed the handle as he followed the fall of the creature. He leapt and brought the shield up. Using his momentum and the momentum of the beast's plunge to the cement, he rammed the crest of the shield into its face. Bone crunched and gave underneath him. As the body he was standing on went still, Steve hoisted his shield and smashed it again for good measure.

"Rogers, at your six," Natasha warned him in a shout.

Steve whirled and slung his blood-splattered weapon at the creature coming up behind him. The copper mass raised an arm to block it. Where the edge connected with skin, it ripped through as cleanly as a razor. Steve's shield winged off to the right, landing in a muddy flowerbed. As soon as Clint saw that it was one of the creatures with thinner flesh, an arrow thwacked into the thing's temple.

Steve didn't watch it go down. Hulk's furious roar drew him away. Banner was surrounded by three of the abominations, slinging his gigantic arms in circles as he tried to hit all of them at once. With a growl, the doctor dragged one into a grappling match. He outweighed Scorn's creature by several hundred pounds. Grabbing on its shoulder and the back of its neck, he forced it to the ground.

As he pinned the small, snarling mass, a jowly monster snaked an arm around his neck. Forgetting the creature below him, Hulk grabbed at the bicep that tightened across his throat. The third moved in to throw punch into Banner's ribcage.

Steve ran to help, but Thor lifted his hammer to collect a bolt of lightning. When Mjölnir glowed blue, the demi-god pointed it at the beast throwing the punches. An arc of white-hot energy crackled through the air in front of Steve and connected with its target. The slumped creature shrieked at the surge. The big body seized and shook, its hands curling with every spasm. When the electricity was gone, it collapsed in a steaming, twitching heap.

His feet pounding over the cement, Steve bared his teeth and jumped on the creature trying to choke Banner out. His bare hands slid on skin. Without his gloves, he had no real grip. He checked the thing in the ear with his elbow, the lumpy, calcium-swollen shell rupturing under the hit.

Much more flexible than Steve was anticipating, the creature reached back to snag him by the shirt. As it tried to pull him forward, Steve dipped his head and let the cloth roll off his shoulders. Bullies always had a tendency to grab him by his jacket, so he was no stranger to losing clothes in a fight. Steve flipped off the thing's back, landing on his feet. The abomination tossed the shirt and turned, but the Hulk was up and he was furious. Forgetting Steve, they clashed with matching roars.

Both of Banner's other combatants climbed to their feet, the one Thor hit with lightning still smoking from the black wound on his side. Steve's shoulders drooped as he watched them get up. He panted and rubbed some stiffness out of his shoulder while he still had a second to do so. Lamenting the fact that they just wouldn't stay down, he ran for his shield, the two creatures chasing after him.

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Tony's first thought, staring at a frightened child hiding under a bed, was 'what would Steve do in this situation?' The big blonde was far better with kids than Tony could ever hope to be. The most interaction Tony had with a human being under the age of eighteen was signing autographs and posing for pictures. He didn't spend any time in their presence, and he certainly didn't know what to do if they were terrified.

Staying low seemed like a good idea, to make him less threatening, so Tony didn't get off the rubble-strewn floor. "It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you," he said, his suit making him sound more machine than man.

It couldn't be putting the girl at ease. Tony slowly reached for the pressure release on the jaw of his helmet, but the girl edged forward and he froze. She spoke tentatively in Russian, a question Tony half understood. He didn't have enough context to answer.

"I'm sorry, kid, I don't-"

She wormed to the end on the bed on her stomach, pushing a triangle of sheet out of the way as she peered at him with those familiar eyes, "Did mother send you?"

Tony never had anything against lying, he thought it saved people a lot of time and heartache if applied in the right places. In the face of her guarded hope, her innocent trust, he felt every ounce the bastard people claimed he was when he said, "Yes, she did. She's here looking for you."

Behind his helmet, Tony ordered, "Jarvis, pull up the SHIELD file on Raisa Golovin." On half of his HUD, the thin child with long black hair crawled out from her hiding place, while the other half projected her mother's data in subdued blues. Studying the girl, Tony decided his original deduction about her age was right. She couldn't have been any older than five. Tony's eyes flicked to the SHIELD file and he spotted the piece of information he wanted.

Raisa was brought into the Russian military program on the twentieth of March in 2007, and, if Tony was right, had her baby in the building where she was being held prisoner. It was the only explanation he had for the lack of paperwork. She was pregnant when Natasha came for her, but she couldn't have been far enough along for the spy to realize. If Natasha knew there was a child, she would've mentioned it. The fact brought this escapade into sharp focus.

As Tony got up, the little girl ran over and latched onto his leg. His hands lifted involuntarily in shock and he blinked and looked down at the top of her head. The armor was intimidating, even to kids who had every Iron Man toy every produced. The few that had ever seen him in person hid behind their parents.

The young Golovin rubbed her chubby cheek against one of the plates encasing his thigh and said, "I didn't know my mother built a robot."

Not entirely sure what to do with a child latched onto his leg, Tony wedged his fingers under her arms and disengaged her very carefully. Holding her at her waist, Tony crouched down to ask, "What's your name?"

The child tilted her head in a gesture that was reminiscent of her mother, "Wasn't that programmed into your keyword database?"

Tony sat back, his surprise quickly overtaken by a smile she couldn't see, "I'm an AI, so I collect data through experience."

"Do you have a neuro-net processor?"

With a chuckle, Tony got up and lifted the brilliant little girl to his hip. He could talk processors all day, but the building wasn't stable and there was still work to do, "No, I have a cognitive architecture for my decision making process."

The child raised her thin arms around his neck and said, "I'm Annika."

"It's been catalogued." Shutting off the exterior speaker, Tony got on the group comm, "Hang on, guys, I've got the game changer."

Clint was the first one to speak up, "What are you talking about, Stark?"

"Just trust me on this, the fight's over."

"Well," Steve jumped in, sounding strained, "Could you tell them that?"

"As soon as I find Scorn, I will," Tony promised and glanced down at Annika.

He didn't want to use the girl as leverage against her mother, but he hoped to convince her to surrender in exchange. This bloodshed had to end and Tony was prepared to do what was necessary. If Raisa still wouldn't order her men to stand down, they'd figure something else out.

Turning to use the shoulder opposite Annika, Tony broke the locked door to the room. When he glanced back at the tiny space to see if there was anything they needed to take with them, he thought 'cell' was more apt than 'room'. It wasn't much more than a postage stamp with a twin bed and a desk. He was lucky he hadn't crushed the girl. A foot to the right and he would have. The abomination had landed in the next room over, for which Tony was even more grateful. If a giant, deformed creature and a talking suit of armor had crashed through her ceiling, she might've gone out of her mind with fear.

There was no power in this part of the building, leaving the hall outside her cell in absolute darkness. Tony's HUD switched over to night vision and dim shapes in shades of green appeared on the screen.

Annika shifted her arms up higher on his neck and squeezed. "It's dark," she said, her voice sounding more her age than when she was asking him about his internal processor.

Tony tapped his chest port, "It's alright, I have a built in flashlight."

Wireframe projections of the exterior helped orient Tony. After falling through a few floors, he wasn't sure what part of the building he was in. He didn't want to break through any walls with the building in such a sorry state, but he didn't know the layout or the best way to get to an exit.

Tony's boots clanked loudly as he hurried through the black. He came to another lab, this one filled with equipment and testing stations. They were approaching the door on the other side when a rear alert flashed on his heads up display. Tony turned, but kept his body between the little girl and the unidentified threat. He set her down, gently pushing her back.

One of the men Scorn had come in with slid around a particle accelerator. Back in his human form, he was just a trim guy in tattered pants, but his eyes gleamed in Tony's night vision the way a lion's would. Tony could tell the moment he came within the light of the reactor, because Annika let out a squeak and climbed him as if he was a tree. She wound her arms and legs around his waist and clung desperately.

"Hand her over, Stark," Scorn's lackey ordered and cracked his knuckles. The pops were like fireworks in the quiet.

"Historically, you boys haven't done too well against me one-on-one, so I'm going to go with no."

"But you actually care whether or not she gets in the middle of the fight. If she dies, I'll tell Golovin you did it and still get paid."

His words made Tony bristle. Bracing one hand under Annika, Tony raised the other one and exposed a catch of missiles as a warning. The plate hiding them whirred as it lifted and Tony said, "Last chance to walk away."

The man's teeth flashed white in the night vision. Tony knew his answer. Before he could burst into his other form, Tony slammed through the door and ran. He had to find a safe place to leave Annika before he could fight, engaging the enemy with her present would get her killed. Tony had the impression that this particular serum-junkie would go out of his way to crush her underfoot.

Annika's dark hair flowed around her face as she twisted to see over Tony's shoulder. He didn't need to hear her piercing scream to know the thing was following them, his suit sensed the vibration in the floor. Doors and halls and rooms whipped by them as Tony ran. On Tony's heels, the same doors and halls shattered as the abomination ripped through them.

When he thought he was getting closer to an exterior wall and possibly an exit, he skidded to a stop in what looked like a cafeteria. Sparks jumped off the tile at the slide of metal. Tony scanned the dead end. There was nothing but an empty salad bar, a counter with a microwave, and a glass front fridge full of sodas.

With nowhere to go, Tony turned to go back the other way. Scorn's monstrosity filled the doorframe. It ducked down to shove one meaty arm and shoulder through and grab at them. Tony moved away, knocking over a few chairs in the process. As the thing forced more of his body through the tiny doorway, fractures spread out across the wall like reaching fingers.

Annika buried her face against his shoulder with a wail that wavered and died in a sob. Tony spread his metallic hand over her back to comfort her. Mumbling soothing words, "It's okay, I won't let him hurt you," Tony's retreat took him into the corner of the room. The metal plating on his back bumped into the cooler and broke the glass. Fragments showered Tony's boots.

Taking aim as the creature broke through the narrow frame, Tony shut off his night vision and sent a blast of repulsor energy into the thing's flat face. He knew it wouldn't kill it, but the light was bright enough to blind it. As Tony's HUD rebooted, he circled both arms protectively around the little girl and bolted for the exit.

Something closed over his head. Tony swung his feet and cursed as he was lifted by his helmet. The joints connecting the helm to the gorget screeched at weight of the rest of the armor falling on them. They weren't designed to handle almost a thousand pounds of pressure. The abomination raised Tony until he could look into the glowing eyes of the suit, his scorched, piggish features filled with demented delight.

Tony grunted and swung both feet up against the creature's wide chest. He diverted all power to the boots. Light exploded through the room with the smell of burned flesh and Tony shot towards the wall. Curling around Annika, Tony took the impact at the apex of his shoulders. Metal crunched and his head was forced forward hard enough that he winced as they cracked through the stone outer wall. They burst into daylight.

At the alarming drain on his reactor's power supply, Tony cut the boots and crashed into the cement on his back. He slammed a hand down to keep from rolling as he slid, keeping Annika clutched close with the other. The hole they'd come through exploded outward when the abomination leapt through it.

"Bad move, Wrestle Mania," Tony grinned and fired a burst of heat-seeking rockets at the thing.

He covered the little girl to protect her from the blast, listening to the bits of flesh rain wetly around them. When it was quiet again, Tony pushed up and checked the child over. Aside from a tear at the hem of her boxy, gray dress and debris dust in her hair, she looked unharmed. She blinked up at him as her eyes adjusted to the brightness. His suit tracked the dilation of her pupils and determined she was concussion free. Once he was sure she wasn't hurt, Tony lifted his head to see where the others were.

"Sir, the reactor's power is down to fifteen percent, and the current is destabilizing quickly," Jarvis told him sweetly with Jane's tone.

Tony could see the power readout on the screen, but his electronic butler always insisted on reporting things it deemed 'crisis level' problems, "Yeah, I got it."

Six of Raisa's science experiments were still standing, but Tony knew they'd take off as soon as the Avengers had the upper hand. They were hired grunts that would have no loyalty when they thought their side was losing. The thunder god was handling two at once, moving fluidly to strike one, then the other. His vivid red cape swirled around him as he whipped a backhanded blow of his hammer into a sternum.

Green and big and screaming with rage, Banner jammed his fingers under the edge of a creature's jawbone and shoved it face-first into the concrete. His hand came away bloody. Before the thing could recover, Bruce jumped into the air and made a fist with both hands. He brought them down with every ounce of his strength on the thing's spine. The thick body slammed into the ground with the force of it. A crack as loud as thunder exploded through the battlefield, but whether it was the road, the thing's bones, or both, Tony wasn't sure. Whatever it was, Hulk's enemy didn't move again.

With a short-lived victory cry, Hulk scanned the area for another fight. He sped across the clearing. Picking up a car by its wheel wells, he slung the station wagon at Natasha's opponent. The spy folded down onto her knees to avoid getting hit, tilting her head just enough for the bumper to sail by and ruffle her hair. Car and creature tumbled for several yards. Hulk charged after them.

Steve was facing two of the abominations alone, backed all the way to the street. One got around behind him while the other beat the vibranium shield with a hailstorm of blows. Steve had a foot braced back, his weight shifted forward, and both arms behind the shield to take the impact. Each hit made him slide a few inches. He looked around for options and barely spotted the other creature in time to drop under his swing. The first one kicked him the moment he was exposed, sending him tumbling into a shop window.

Tony was moving before he even knew what he was going to do. Scooping up Annika, Tony shot across the courtyard. He watched the levels on his reactor tick down like a timer. His HUD flickered, but he darted between the two mini-hulks and landed gracelessly in the shop. As soon as he'd cut the rockets, the power to the rest of the suit stabilized.

Steve paused in disentangling himself from the rack of clothing he'd landed on, staring at Tony, then the child. The man was a mess. His shirt was gone, there was already an ugly purple and blue bruise forming where he'd been kicked, he had a black eye, and almost every square inch of him was covered in either dirt or blood. Tony raised his brow, knowing they'd both be needing a hot bath and some aspirin when this was done. Steve would have to eat a feast to replenish all the energy he'd expended, which Tony was certain Thor would love.

"Well, if I'd known you were fighting half-naked, I would've been here sooner," Tony commented lightly, making Steve glance down at his bare chest and give him a weak glare.

Steve picked up his shield, shaking a lacy blouse off of it as he asked, "Who is that?"

Outside, the abominations were approaching the shop cautiously. Annika pointed them out, "Mr. Robot…"

Tony held her under her armpits, thrusting her toward the soldier, "Steve, Annika. Annika, Steve. You kids behave while I handle this."

Steve took her with his free arm and the pair regarded each other for a moment before they both looked back at Tony. Annika babbled at him in Russian, reaching a hand out for him, while Steve called, "Wait a minute, Tony. Who is she? Why do you have her?"

"Just keep her safe," Tony told him as he climbed through the broken window. As if it was an afterthought, Tony glanced back over his shoulder and added, "Don't worry, Annika. He's one of the good guys."

At the corner of his eye, the rector percentage blinked seventeen. Damage readouts crawled above it. A tiny visual of his suit pinpointed the problems, but only a few parts of his machine weren't lit up in red. He was thinking he was going to need to retire the MARK VII. After a certain point, it took less time to build a new one than it did to make repairs.

As he approached, the two massive creatures dove for him. Tony used a controlled burst from his rockets to leap over them and blasted them both with his palms to get their undivided attention. While he led them away from the shop, Steve got Annika out of the building. Tony saw him vault through the window and waited until the super soldier was sprinting for the center of the courtyard before he released two guided missiles from his wrists. A meaty hand snapped down around one missile before it connected, but they both exploded anyway.

Smoke and fire billowed into the air, the shockwave knocking Tony back a step. As the sounds of falling body parts and Thor finishing up with the last of the abominations faded, a long, low groan filled the square. It wasn't human or animal, more like the sound of strained metal giving ground. The team stood at attention, looking for the source, but Tony slowly scanned the tower from the base to the highest floor.

"Sir, the structural integrity of the building is becoming incredibly-"

"Unstable," Tony finished for the computer. "I noticed. Clint, please tell me the civilians are clear."

"Been clear for a while, Stark."

Tony was happy to hear some good news. Nothing in this fight had gone their way since it started. Tony judged the height of the building and had Jarvis flick over to the SHIELD network. There was a lot of well-orchestrated chatter, but Tony's voice silenced all of them, "We're going to need three blocks cleared in every direction." No one argued. He got a chorus of 'yes, sir's and the organized chatter continued with a different purpose.

Switching back to the group comm, Tony said, "Everyone should get to the jet," with certainty.

Natasha came on, giving him a pointed look from across the courtyard, "This isn't over, not until we find Raisa."

"Unless you want to get buried in your homeland, it's over. Get to the jet."

A sharp crack ripped through the air, followed by the lobby windows exploding outward. Tony tensed in preparation for the building to come down, but then the seven-foot monstrosity with arms like a gorilla rushed through the falling glass. A collective groan went up from the team and Hulk moved towards the fight.

Thor put a hand on the doctor's side, "Wait, my friend." Tired enough to have worn through most of his rage, Banner glanced at the demi-god and stayed where he was.

Behind the forgotten abomination came Raisa. Her creature stopped on the second landing leading away from the building, his shoulders lifting and pectorals bunching as he flexed. Veins rose on the ashy skin of the thing's arms while the muscles rolled threateningly underneath. The compact woman came around him, gun held loosely in one hand. Her lips twisted as she surveyed what they'd done to her men.

When she saw Steve with Annika, her head lifted and she came down the remainder of the stairs, "You will give her to me, now!"

"Mama!" the dark-haired girl called, squirming in Steve's hold. Bewildered, Steve glanced at Tony, but didn't let go of the child.

"Holy shit, you weren't kidding about game changer," Clint commented.

Tony walked out slowly, keeping the crosshairs fixed over Scorn. He wasn't too worried about her gun, in his armor a bullet wouldn't even register as damage, but she'd proven more than once that she adapted rapidly. Only when he was between her and Steve did Raisa turn her attention to Tony. Her lip curled.

"You want her back, then let's talk about you turning yourself in. We can't just let you walk away after all this," there was no inflection in Iron Man's voice, but there was something gentle in Tony's. He had to admire a woman that would go to any extreme to save her child, even if Raisa took all the wrong paths.

Raisa raised the gun, "So she can slip into foster care? Alone, lost… no. I will take her and we will leave."

"SHIELD can ensure that you see her."

"You will give me my daughter," her pitch rose.

Tony stepped closer and put his hands out. The MARK tracked Steve's movement behind him. Though he didn't have a video feed for the rear, the sensors could detect his approach. Tony stayed focused on Scorn, "Only in exchange for any information you still have on the serum and letting SHIELD take you into custody."

Raisa's eyes narrowed and she shifted her aim to the left. For a split second, Tony thought she was going to shoot Steve, but the barrel kept moving until it was fixed on Natasha, "If you want both, you will give me her life in return for that of my husband."

"You know that's not going to happen."

"She is a murderer. A killer. The rest of you are guardians, why do you accept her presence in your midst? You should cast her out," Raisa hissed.

Before Tony could answer, an arrow slotted perfectly into the gun's barrel. It had enough force to knock the pistol out of Raisa's grip and send it clattering across the sidewalk. Tony was rarely astonished by Clint's aim anymore, but to hit a target the size of a dime from across a city block was worthy of Guinness World Record.

"You okay, Nat?"

Natasha nodded at the archer and started for the fire escape that led to the plane. She was moving stiffly.

"Hell of a shot," Tony congratulated as he grabbed Raisa's arm and forced it behind her back.

The small woman thrashed and spit words at him in Russian he was sure he didn't want the translation for. Her last pet monster watched silently. Tony hoped the abomination realized how many they'd killed and that he was outnumbered six-to-one. He didn't think he had enough firepower left to handle another one. He definitely didn't have enough juice left in the damaged reactor.

Tony glanced up in time to see a crack split through the foundation stone on the left side of the tower. A matching series of fractures spread across the opposite side and the building groaned again. Raisa got still in his hands as the bottom floor compacted under the weight of the levels above it. The layers collapsed faster, dust and stone and metal and glass filling the air like fog. A shadow raced across the courtyard as the building tipped forward and eclipsed the sun.

Raisa's monster tore her out of Tony's grasp, carrying her even as she screamed for her daughter. Tony hesitated to chase them. The other Avengers bolted into alleys and the jet lifted off to get out of range. Thor looked back as he entered a side street, stopping when he realized what Tony realized. Steve was right in the middle of the open block. The soldier was running, leaping over bodies and debris, but the building was gaining speed. He had Annika clutched tightly against his chest. Her wide eyes watched the skyscraper descend over Steve's shoulder.

Tony turned his rockets on full, darting around the meteors of broken stone coming from the falling structure. The reactor's readout flashed.

Ten percent.

"Come on!" Tony shouted as he devoured the ground between them.

Hearing Tony coming, Steve rotated into him so he didn't have to slow down. He threw an arm over Tony's shoulders, the shield banging against Tony's plate metal.

Five percent.

Tony pushed more power into the rockets to augment for the extra mass and the percentage dropped like a stone.

Two percent.

They were close enough Tony could see Thor's worry without zooming the image. Until the HUD went black.

"Sir, the reactor can no longer poooowerrr… thhhhe…"

Tony crashed into the cement. Steve tucked around Annika, covering almost all of her body with the shield and her head with his massive palm as they rolled. Above them, the skyscraper slammed into line of three and four-story shops and kept moving. Steve's bright blue eyes met Tony's through the helmet. There wasn't enough time.

"Thor! Give me a charge!" Tony screamed over the sounds of shattering glass and rending metal.

As Steve lifted his shield over his head, Tony got up to face the tower. It filled up the view he had through the mask, barely twenty feet away and descending fast. Standing over Steve, Tony raised his palms. The bolt of electricity hit him hard enough that he stumbled. Searing power crackled through the suit's conduits. The HUD flared to life, glowing brighter and brighter with the sustained electricity until Tony had to close his eyes against it.

"Sir, the reactor-"

"Shut it, Jarvis. I know."

With a shout, he expelled the energy through both palm repulsors and the chest cannon. He channeled Thor's power upward. The armor heated where the lightning arched, one end of a circuit that would give out before the power source died. Rubble imploded at the long discharge of brilliant fire, giving way under the onslaught of repulsors.

The building crashed down around them, cutting off Tony's supply. Without the sun, all they had was Tony's light. The residual energy didn't last. The numbers dove from triple digits to double, to single in a few breaths. "Divert everything into the repulsors," Tony shouted at Jarvis. He kept blasting, hoping the falling debris would end before his counter reached zero again.

No noise could exist beside the crunching, screaming, deafening roar of the skyscraper coming down around their ears. As the heads up died and Tony's suit went into shut down, he thought he heard Steve call his name. But when the repulsors finally gave out, there was nothing left but darkness and the clang of thousand pounds of construction hitting metal.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Steve came awake at a soft, weak whimper. His arm was twisted in a strange position behind his head and it took him a moment to realize his hand was trapped between his shield and his shoulder. He shifted slightly and felt something rough press into the bare skin of his back. There was no light to see by, so Steve could only guess.

In the small hollow where his arm and chest didn't touch the ground, the quiet sound came again. Steve unlocked his stiff fingers from around the handle of the shield and reached blindly to touch the side of the girl's head. He didn't feel any blood in her hair or any soft spots on the bone, but there was a chance she was injured elsewhere.

"Annika?" Steve tried, thinking that was what Tony had called her. "You alright?"

A little hand curled around his fingers and a tear soaked voice asked, "Why is it so dark? Where's the robot with the flashlight?"

Steve's throat closed. He didn't know the answer to that. In the last moment he'd looked past the shield, Tony was expending every ounce of energy he had to create a crater in the structure crashing down on them. The other man had to be close, but Steve couldn't see any hint of the white-blue glow from the reactor.

"Tony?" Steve said and put out his hand.

When he brushed against over-heated metal, he pulled back with an involuntary hiss of pain. The suit was beside him, so close he could feel the warmth radiating against his skin. Trying to be optimistic, Steve thought maybe Tony's reactor was hidden by the rubble. He gingerly brushed his callused hand over the bends and lines of Tony's Iron Man, only touching it with his whole palm when he adjusted to the temperature.

In the dark, the shapes were slightly foreign to him. He remembered every piece of metal he was just having difficulty discerning what part of the suit he was exploring. His fingers bumped over evenly spaced ridges and up along a long smooth expanse with a delicate curve. As he felt the dome, he knew. Tony was lying on his side facing Steve. The reactor was dark.

"Tony," Steve whispered, afraid yelling would frighten the child even more.

Something shifted and dust powdered the air, clinging to Steve's sweaty face and arms. Annika coughed. Steve heard the grind of metal on metal just before Tony trapped his hand against the dark reactor. Some of the tightness left his chest as Tony's fingers folded in his.

'"Why don't you have power? Are you-"

More dust and bits of concrete fell when Tony pushed his mask back. All three of them coughed, but Tony's breathing stayed labored once the debris settled. "Sorry," Tony gasped as if he couldn't get enough air.

"Just sit still," Steve told him. He was more worried about Tony's state than the dirt, but too much movement could cause a secondary collapse.

"Well," Tony inhaled deeply, sounding strained, and squeezed Steve's hand, "That didn't really go as planned."

"You never have a plan, Tony."

"Just brilliant ideas. Not all of them pan out. Some of them do explode, you just never hear about it."

In Tony's classic style, he joked to cover the seriousness of the situation. Steve knew, he didn't need Tony to say it. The reactor was dead and Tony would be too if they couldn't get him some help. Digging their way out was too risky, Steve wouldn't chance something heavier than a few pebbles jarring loose. There was no way to tell how much rubble was above them.

Praying the group comm was still working, Steve spoke into it, "Anyone read me? We're still alive, but Tony needs medical attention. Thor? Nat?" The speaker in his ear crackled, single, broken syllables coming through the static.

"Too much interference," Tony mumbled.

Annika slid out of Steve's hold and curled against Tony's side, "Don't die. My momma can fix you, don't die."

"Clint? Natasha? Somebody copy!" Steve's tone took on a frantic edge as Tony's breathing turned into uneven gasps. "Tony is down! We need an evac!" A scattered response filtered through, but Steve couldn't piece together what was said. His hand shook as he pressed on the speaker, "Say again?"

"… eep- … -alking… I read -ou," Clint finally came through. "Keep talking, Rogers! We're tracking your earpiece. Shit! No! Not there you big, green bastard! Here! Dig here!"

Steve managed a relieved smile when he heard the scraping over their heads. He squeezed Tony's hand, "Just a few minutes. Keep breathing, baby." When Tony didn't respond, Steve's relief cracked like a glass exposed to fire, "Clint, he's not going to last. Get us out of here."

"Working on it."

Daylight touched them, mottled and scarcely more than pinpoints, but more beautiful than any sunrise. Steve squinted at the glare. As his focus returned, he could see Tony's face. The other man was still conscious, but only barely. His bleary brown eyes flicked to Steve and he attempted to smirk, but the attempt turned into a tweak at the corner of his mouth. Tony was very pale.

"Hurry!" Steve shouted at their friends.

Through the crisscross of rebar and bent support beams, Steve spotted them. Thor and Banner were already flinging massive pieces of stone out of the way at breakneck speed, the hole getting bigger with each second. They weren't as deep as Steve thought, maybe fifteen feet beneath the destroyed building. If Tony hadn't blasted a way through for them, it would've been much worse.

Thor slid a chunk of flooring that was pressing on them, his biceps bulging as he bent the metal ties out of the way, and reached a hand down. "We are so enthused to see you have both survived," the gigantic blonde told him.

Though the child was peering at the newcomers with wide, suspicious eyes, Steve pulled her away from Tony and held her up to Thor first. The demi-god took her waist in one hand and hoisted her to Clint. The archer disappeared over the top of the hole with her. Once she was clear, Steve started shoving the remaining rubble off of Tony. Thor dropped down beside him to help.

Together, they took Tony under the arms and started the unsteady climb. Their feet slipped as they worked their way up. Steve fell on one knee when a pane of still intact window gave out underneath him. Without warning, Hulk wrapped one gigantic arm around Tony's waist and took him from them.

"Don't throw him," Steve ordered, all too familiar with Banner's lack of delicacy in this form. Steve scrambled up the last few feet to catch him before Tony was tossed into the rubble.

Snorting at him, Banner laid Tony on the smoothest place he could find. As Steve pried at the armor, Clint set Annika on her feet and crouched to watch. The archer's two covered fingers rubbed at his upper lip, something as close to worry as he was capable of entering his keen gaze. Natasha walked up next to him, keeping her distance from the girl.

Steve snapped every fastening on the right side of Tony's breastplate, his hands white and bloodless with the effort. The last of the clasps broke free with a shriek and Steve tossed it out of the way. There was a hole in Tony's shirt. Beneath it, the reactor crunched at Steve's touch.

Thor made a disgruntled, upset sound, "I am truly sorry, I was not aware the lightning could cause such damage in Tony's heart piece."

"You didn't do this," Steve said and ripped Tony's shirt so he could see it better. The tremble in his fingers was only apparent when he fished the bullet out from the center of the vibranium triangle. "See if you can get Banner to come to his senses. We need his help."

The doctor was the one option they had. No one else understood Tony's reactor and Steve knew Banner had seen the blueprints for it. Tony trusted him with the knowledge. The problem was that Banner was hard to calm. It was easiest for him to change back when he was knocked unconscious (which was almost impossible) or when he went to sleep. It was rare when he changed back on his own.

Steve looked away from the wreckage of Tony's arc and up to the man's face. His eyelids were fluttering, the dark lashes fanning across his pallor whenever Tony lost the battle to keep them open. When they were closed too long, Steve brushed his thumb over the skin at Tony's cheekbone and asked, "Where're we going for our honeymoon?"

Tony opened his mouth as if to answer, but could only wheeze.

"Heard Sicily is nice. Is Sicily still nice?" Steve leaned over him and touched their foreheads together. The sting of tears threatened him. "Never been to a beach with blue water. Sad, right?" When he felt Tony's breath still, Steve crammed his eyes shut and held back a wail.

"Mamma!"

Steve turned at the excited squeal to see Scorn scooping up her child. The woman cradled the girl close, watching the team cautiously as she backed away. There was no sign of her pet hulk, but Steve figured the thing ran off when it had the chance. All she had was the gun, the arrow now gone from the barrel.

Clint stood to stop her, but Annika was crying and pointing at Tony and babbling in Russian. She switched sporadically to English, then to Russian again, Steve only catching every three or four words. He knew 'robot' and 'fix' and 'can't leave'. Raisa's body was tense to the point of shaking, ready to bolt if any of them so much as sneezed. She continued to move her feet by feel and put distance between her and the Avengers.

Then Annika uttered the words that changed everything, "He saved me."

Steve could see her analyzing her choices. Her unique eyes flicked over Tony and something in her softened. For a moment, she was the young, idealistic woman from the SHIELD photographs. The gun lowered.

Her determination returned, but not the seething hatred. She stuck the gun in its holster and pointed at Clint, "You, get me a battery out of one of those cars and the coupling cable," she motioned vaguely at the surrounding streets. "Get the rest of the armor off him, we won't want any metal touching his skin when we shock him back."

Steve took the order gracefully because he didn't know what else to do. When she knelt next to him and removed Tony's helmet, Steve said, "Could've run, why didn't you?"

Raisa carefully removed the broken bits of reactor, never looking up from her work, "You know why."

They didn't speak again. Raisa worked with a precision Steve didn't usually see, as though she rigged up people's electromagnets with new power sources all the time. Once the Iron Man armor was gone, Steve stood and moved away to give her space. He stayed vigilant in case her assistance turned out to be an elaborate ruse.

The little girl came around and took Steve's fingers, her hand too small to grab much more, "Don't worry, mommy can fix him."

Their friends and teammates stayed clustered around them while Raisa hooked red and black wires into the base of the empty reactor casing. She fastened the red cable to the positive side, and then touched the black cable to the other side. It sparked and Tony's body jerked. She did it again and Tony abruptly sat up, gasping and reaching for the wires.

Steve leapt forward to grab his wrists, "It's okay." He kissed across Tony's face, silencing the genius's sharp questions with his lips while Raisa finished clamping the wires down on the brick-like battery. Even after he'd broken off for air, he wound his arms around Tony, not daring to let him go. The others celebrated around him, one of them (Thor judging by the force of it) slapped him on the back.

Blue eyes met gold-green and Steve simply said, "Thank you."

Raisa nodded and drew her daughter close.

From where he was pressed up against Steve's chest, Tony groused, "Is that a car battery?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Tony glared at the battery, at the filth and blackish grime and the cables leading into his chest. "We were never supposed to meet again. Ever, ever again," he growled at it.

"Give it up, it's temporary."

"It's unsanitary and-"

"Temporary."

Tony turned his glare onto Steve. He'd already glowered at the paramedic fussing over him and the gurney they'd tried, unsuccessfully, to get him to lay on, so he figured it was his fiancé's turn anyway. He sat with his legs tossed over the side of SHIELD's medical helicopter, Steve leaning on the door beside him. The bigger man was unfazed by the angry stare. He gently pushed some hair off of Tony's face and he gave in. He was tired of fighting.

With a sigh, Tony tilted his face into Steve's palm, not caring that the soldier was grimy. "Sicily sounds phenomenal, by the way. And while we're doing the Mediterranean, we should gamble away my life savings in Monte Carlo," Tony laughed.

"Be there a decade trying."

SHIELD operatives swarmed over the area, working cleanup. The temporary medical center was in one of the larger side streets, beyond the reach of the wreckage. They still had a very good view of the destroyed courtyard. All of the creatures had to be exhumed from the ruins to keep the PR explosion to a minimum. Looking at the destruction, Tony was fairly sure SHIELD would be making a public apology to Russia within the next few days. Maybe several apologies.

Two agents flanked Raisa and her daughter while someone checked the girl for injuries. Tony didn't know what to think about the two of them anymore. Rescuing him didn't change the fact that Raisa had killed almost a hundred people in the New York subway, and even more when she'd turned her creatures on Washington. He knew she had to be arrested, but for her to come so far, sacrifice so much for her daughter, and lose her chance to be with her burned Tony's insides. He wondered what would happen to Annika once her mother was thrown into one of SHIELD's detention centers.

The paramedic broke his line of sight and Steve stepped back to let the woman take Tony's blood pressure. As the other medical technician finished up with Annika, he came over and set his kit by Steve's feet. The soldier obediently moved his arm so the technician could lift the shirt they'd gotten Steve and prod at the bruise across his ribs.

As Tony was bombarded with questions about dizziness and nausea, an old sedan pulled up to the SHIELD perimeter. A man in a suit jacket with an ID clipped to the lapel got out of the rusted vehicle. While he showed the guards a clipboard of paperwork, he stared at the chaos with an open mouth.

Tony leaned around the woman running him through the paces for diagnosing shock, "No, I'm not dizzy, or nauseas, and I don't feel like I'm about to pass out. I'm not going into shock, I've been through worse."

Even Steve gave him a skeptical look at that.

The man with the clipboard made his way to Raisa and Annika. Tony stood up when the man spoke a few words and Scorn flared with rage. Both agents with her had to hold her arms to restrain her as the clipboard wielder took Annika's hand and started to lead her away. Annika pulled against him lightly at first, then more adamantly, her screams for her mother ripping into Tony.

Though Scorn couldn't have weighed more than ninety pounds, she dragged SHIELD's men a few steps trying to get to her daughter. They knocked her flat, one putting his knee against her spine as the other handcuffed her. When the CPS agent picked up Annika to force her into the car, Tony couldn't sit still anymore. Grabbing up the car battery by the handle, Tony jogged toward the sedan.

"Tony, what are you doing? We can't get involved here," Steve said and caught up to him with only a few strides. He snagged Tony's shoulder, turning him.

Tony looked up at Steve, suddenly realizing how much he needed the captain to be on his side for this. If he went through with it, it would irrevocably change both their lives. It wasn't a decision he could make alone. Studying his fiancé's strong features, Tony said, "I have to do this." The sedan's engine turned over. "Either stop me now, or let me go."

Steve lifted his head to stare at the car, Tony's heart pounding painfully while he waited for an answer. The hand at his shoulder relaxed and slid down to nudge him. When Tony didn't move, Steve said, "Go."

Tony ran through the street, his battery tucked under his arm. He knew he shouldn't be exerting himself after everything that had happened, but as the sedan made a three-point turn in the narrow road, Tony knew he didn't have another choice. He couldn't let a child a brilliant as Annika slip into a system that would never understand her. She would go from home to home, always out of place, always isolated from others her age. From people of any age. Finding another like her was more improbable than Thor turning down a drink.

The CPS agent slammed on the brakes when Tony suddenly slapped his hand on the hood. He gaped at Tony, confusion creasing the thick lines of his face. "Hey, I left something in your car," Tony yelled, tapping the hood with his palm.

The man responded in Russian. Ignoring him, Tony went around and pulled open the back door. Annika was curled up in the floorboard behind the passenger seat, her knees squeezed tight against her chest. At the sound of the door, she peered up at him. A grin pulled her chubby cheeks into bunches. She crawled out of the car and jumped at him, wrapping around him like a baby monkey.

"Mr. Robot!"

Tony chuckled and carefully adjusted the wires so she didn't jar them loose. Holding her with his free arm, Tony ducked away from the angry government worker who was now yelling at him. He told the man his Russian wasn't very good, which only made him yell louder. If Tony had the cash for a bribe, he would've shoved it at him so he'd go away, but there wasn't enough room in Iron Man for a wallet.

The commotion was bringing a lot of unwanted attention. A few of the SHIELD guards approached, "Mr. Stark, let the man do his job."

"Who speaks better Russian than I do? Somebody get Natasha."

By the time the spy arrived, the CPS agent was so red in the face from screaming Tony thought he was going to pass out. They had a paramedic trying to get him to sit down, but he wasn't listening. All the while, Tony held Annika against his side, not letting anyone touch her. Steve stood on his left with the battery, quietly observing.

Natasha listened to the man rant, and then glanced over at Tony, "He says you're kidnapping a child and he'll see you rot in jail."

"Tony, maybe we should go through the proper channels here," Steve suggested.

The proper channels meant months, sometimes years, of paperwork and red tape. Tony wasn't that patient. It also meant leaving Annika in Russia and that was something he'd already decided wasn't happening. "Tell him I'll pay three times the adoption fees if he'll shut up and get in his car."

Natasha didn't translate anything, she only quirked an eyebrow at him, "That's not how this works. You can't just throw money at something."

"You want to bet?"

The argument continued without Tony, because he had a sudden rush of inspiration. His eyes got distant as he considered the idea from all angles. Assuming Raisa cooperated, there weren't any loopholes he could see. Tony walked off while Natasha was laying into him about edict and something else equally boring. Just as the cords hooked to his chest drew tight, Steve followed after him. The soldier didn't ask, but he was used to Tony's sudden brainwaves. The others tailed behind, still griping.

Tony traded the child for the battery and left Steve to speak with Raisa alone. They'd loaded her into the back of the jet in preparation to return to SHIELD. The guards gave them some space after a bit of coaxing, then threatening. Tony didn't think it was the coaxing that made them begrudgingly move away.

Once they were gone, Tony sat on the bench seat across from the scientist, "You need to sign over your parental rights to me."

"And why would I do that?" The woman glared at him, but she was tired and defeated.

Tony dropped the heavy battery onto the floor and leaned his elbows on his knees, "Because, if she's with me, she'll get the best education, the best care, the best of everything. Your daughter is like us, she has a mind no one can touch, let alone understand. If you don't let me take her-"

"So you can use her against me? Get me to behave?"

Tony sat up, "No. Look, I know you've got no reason to take my word for it, but Steve and I will give her a good home. And I'll bring her to see you."

"What good are the promises of a man like Tony Stark?" Raisa murmured, her eyes drifting to the floor.

Tony pressed his lips together. There were a millions arguments he could make, but the key was making her believe. Raisa trusted no one, it was how she'd learned to survive. Tony knew a few people just like her. He looked out at Steve and the dark-haired girl in his arms. There were promises, and then there were truths. If one didn't work, Tony could resort to the other.

"I see myself in your daughter," Tony admitted. When Raisa raised her eyes, he added, "I'm sure you see yourself too. We know what it's like… I swear to you, I will always make time for her. She'll never be alone in the way we were alone."

After a long moment of consideration, Raisa finally said, "Very well. Get me the paperwork."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Steve hadn't expected quite so many people to show up to the party. It had been almost five months since the Moscow incident and the last of Annika's papers had finally gone through. It was a good a reason as any to celebrate. The team showed, as had Fury and his shadow, Maria, and Pepper, and Colonel Rhodes. Though Steve was glad to see Tony and Pepper mending old bonds, James Rhodes had cornered Steve early on in the party and made the obligatory threats on his life should he ever hurt Tony. Considering he was about the same height as Tony, Steve wasn't particularly threatened, but he still politely agreed.

Now that the party had mellowed and merged a little, Rhodes was chatting with SHIELD's director and Thor was tossing Annika into the air with a big, goofy grin. Her every delighted squeal made him smile wider and repeat the action. Behind him, Jane sipped on a light beer and watched the interaction fondly. Pepper was talking animatedly to Natasha, Happy glancing between them without a word. Steve hadn't seen Clint in almost an hour, but the last time the archer had gone missing at a party, he was hiding on a balcony. By the bar, Tony was chatting with Banner, but his eyes never left Annika.

Annika was slowly getting accustomed to living with total strangers. She and Tony connected instantly over science, their heads tucked close as he showed her some mechanically complex creation. It had taken more effort for Steve to win her over. There was a lot of trial and error on Steve's end trying to figure out what she liked, but he'd found a way in through museums and art exhibits. After her Sunday visit with her mother, Steve always took her to the aquarium in Brooklyn for ice cream and fish watching.

Children were something Steve assumed he'd never have, but now that he did, he could see how rewarding it was. Rewarding, but time consuming. Since they'd been so dedicating to organizing the adoption and getting the tower redesigned to be more kid friendly, they hadn't talked about getting married again. Steve understood there was a lot distracting them, and Tony had to build a new reactor and a new suit when they'd gotten home. There wasn't much of a chance to plan a wedding. Now that Steve had moved in, they were together all the time anyway and a ring wouldn't change that.

Steve checked his watch when he saw Annika rub at her eyes. Even with as intelligent as she was, she was still only five and it was almost an hour past bedtime. Tony noticed the motion too and set down his drink. Steve glanced over at Banner as Tony took his sleepy daughter from the thunder god and carried her towards the stairs. If Bruce thought the two of them cooking was uncomfortably domestic, Steve could only imagine what he thought now.

"Hey babe, will you help me a minute?"

Steve got up at Tony's call. He followed the younger man up the stairs, but tilted his head when Tony didn't ask him to take Annika or get the door or anything. "What do you need?" Steve asked softly when he caught up to him in Annika's bedroom.

Tony didn't answer while he got the girl settled. Annika slurred something about not being sleepy. As he pulled off her party shoes and Tony crooned, "I know, I know. And the density of air exceeds that of water."

"No it doesn't," she frowned and her eyes drifted shut.

Steve put his hand in the small of Tony's back, loving the man even more in this moment. When Tony was done, Steve took his turn kissing her forehead before they slipped out into the hall. Easing the door shut, Steve asked, "So what's up?" because he was smarter than people gave him credit for and Tony never intentionally separated him from a crowd unless there was a reason.

Tony grabbed one of his belt loops and Steve stepped close at his tug, "Just haven't really gotten a chance to have you to myself."

"We do have a house full of people…"

Tony tilted up on his toes to press their lips together. Warmth spread like tendrils through Steve's chest, partly from the closeness of the new reactor, partly just Tony's touch. Steve slipped his arms around Tony's middle and slipped his tongue between his slick lips. Their touch and tangle was lazy but still made Steve groan low in his throat. Tony shifted against him, pulling one hand away from his neck to slide it down between them.

Just as Steve was drawing back to tell him they needed to wait until everyone left, Tony fished something out of his pocket and said, "These are a little late, but we both know I'm slightly less than perfect."

They were tucked in a black, velvet box together, one of them gold with flecks of ruby and yellow sapphire lined up on the middle of the band, the other silver with rubies and blue sapphires and one diamond set in the middle. Steve's smile spread slowly as he admired them. They were exactly as showy as Steve was expecting, but somehow still tasteful.

Tony got them out of the box and took Steve's left hand, "I was thinking one of the bigger churches downtown, maybe the one over on 5th Avenue. There will have to be room for press because if we don't invite them, they'll just-"

"Is this vibranium?" Steve asked as he took the silver ring from Tony.

Tony maneuvered the gold band onto Steve's finger with a smirk, "No, synthesizing that stuff is a little complicated, so it's just platinum."

Steve didn't want an overly large wedding. He didn't want a million guests he didn't know and he definitely didn't want to be on camera. If it was what Tony wanted, he would go through with it, but as Steve slipped the ring on Tony's finger, he suggested, "Why don't we elope?"

Tony's eyebrows nearly met his hairline, "We're just going to run off and get married, so the press can make a huge deal out of it and we can be the scandal of the week on nighttime television?" Steve blushed slightly. When Tony put it that way, it didn't sound like such a great idea. He was about to say so until Tony smiled, "Sure."

"Really?"

"You know I love a good scandal, especially if I'm at the center of it," Tony chuckled and slipped his arms around Steve's neck again.

Matching Tony's smile, Steve devoured the smaller man's mouth. He tightened his hold at his waist, tasting scotch on Tony's tongue. It wasn't his favorite drink, but it was everything Tony and would always make him think of kissing him.

"So, Mr. Steve Stark, what'dya say to kicking the others out and fucking like rabbits," Tony breathed against his mouth, his facial hair teasing Steve's skin.

"Oh no, I'm not taking your last name. If anything, you should be Tony Rogers."

Tony faked a cringe, not quite hiding his smirk, "No, see, that's not going to work. Stark is kind of my brand. I am the brand. Plus, I bring in all the money, so…"

Steve shook his head and kissed him again, "You're impossible."

"You already knew that."

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In an undisclosed location in the middle of Nevada, a siren blared in SHIELD's high-security prison. Raisa Golovin stood at the bars of her cell, watching armed guards run to their station. All of them suddenly flew by as if thrown by an invisible hand and a man walked slowly into her sight. He was older, but radiated power and authority. His gaze roamed over the inmates and finally settled on her. Raisa moved away from the bars as he approached.

"I hear you can make a serum that will turn mortal man into mutant perfection," the gray-haired man said. "If it's true, I may be able to offer you a way out."

When she nodded, the painted metal bars of her cell bent outward with a screech. At the slightly twitch of his hand, the door ripped out of the wall and clanged across the cement floor. She stared at the wreckage and looked up slowly, "Who are you?"

"I have had many names, child, but my enemies know me as Magneto."

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Well, I hope you all enjoyed. I would put some long-winded spiel here, but I really have to go get ready to leave for New York, so what I'm going to say is THANK YOU! Thanks to all of you who read it, and especially thanks to all of you who reviewed time and again. I love you all.


	15. Update for Followers

Update for those following this story, I've just put up the first chapter of the sequel. It's called The Altar of Human Sacrifice. You want to know what happens with Magneto? Go find out! You can reach it on my profile.


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